


Love Is A Shield

by Azyungel



Series: Love Is A Shield [1]
Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, And the Space Between Them, Arkenstone - Freeform, Battle of Five Armies Fix-It, Bilbo is Sweet and Caring, Dreams, Dreamy and Surreal Moments, Fanart, First Kiss, Forgiveness, Friendship, Illustrations, Khuzdul, Love, Love Confessions, M/M, Mention of Possible Universes, Mirkwood, Pining, Post-Battle of Five Armies, Protective Thorin, Return to Erebor, Song Lyrics, Soul Bond, The Acorn, Thranduil is a Bit of a Villain, both are oblivious
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-19
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:20:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 75,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26549635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Azyungel/pseuds/Azyungel
Summary: “Time and eternity are one and the same thing; it is only we who make them different.”What would it take for Thorin to survive the Battle of Five Armies? What could happen after if he did? A close look at the unique connection between two halves of a whole: Bilbo and Thorin. A love story told through mentions of possible universes, dreams, references to the quest for Erebor, and post-BoTFA situations that may or may not challenge their soul bond.OR: After Bilbo and Thorin go through a series of trials seemingly meant to keep them apart forever, Thorin wakes up to find out that the Arkenstone is now in the hands of King Thranduil, who wants to use its powers to bring his wife back to life and who is overseeing the recovery of Thorin’s nephews. There appears to be no end in sight for more harsh testing of Bilbo and Thorin’s love. In fact, this is just the beginning.
Relationships: Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield
Series: Love Is A Shield [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2080686
Comments: 116
Kudos: 119





	1. Shapes and Colors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Thorin is losing contact with the world, his mind tries to remember. Bilbo looks for a way to keep him alive.  
> This chapter now has an illustration at the end, my painting of Erebor as Thorin would have wanted it. This is the image that inspired me to begin writing this work of fan-fiction.

Thorin closed his eyes, and it seemed like the world had faded away. Darkness closed in on him, yet there were still sounds in that night. He could hear the ice on Ravenhill cracking into a million pieces, the ice he had used to his advantage minutes earlier, and that betrayed him in the end. As the sounds began to rise higher and higher, he could hear the stone walls splinter, the Ravenhill towers crumble, and the sky itself crash. A feeling of winter – cold, but pure, untainted – settled inside him, peaceful and calm.

Thus it became clear to Thorin that he still had his mind, and though he could not see anything with it, he found that he could paint with it. So he painted. He started with a background of ice, then placed a grey stone on the ice, and then he waited. Suddenly, his mind began to see. It saw a tiny blue flower on top of the stone. Then his mind painted stone walls, and tiny blue flowers emerged out of them. Next, he painted snow on top of the walls, and, to Thorin’s astonishment, tiny blue flowers rose from the snow.

Thorin did not know the name of those flowers. As he beheld the painting, his mind began to remember. It remembered something he had dreamed of before: the halls of his home, in myriads of shades of blue, green and grey, pillars, walls and bridges on many levels. The throne, beautiful and bright in the sunlight, a precious jewel above it, the light shining even brighter on and around it. On one corner on the right of the dais was a tiny blue flower – had it grown on the stone or had it been painted? Thorin could not say. If you followed the path down, it led to a bridge with blue flowers on each side. And to the left of the dais, as you looked down at a lower level, you could see a tree growing against a background of green.

This had been a dream, Thorin knew as much. This was his home as he had wished it to be. Yet he did not know why a part of it was a shade of bright green, or why there were flowers or even a real tree there. Who was the person he had dreamed those things for?

And this is how he remembered, slowly, in fleeting bits and pieces, the person who had reached for his heart. Thoughts without words, words without thoughts whirled around him as his mind tried to put it all together. On the surface simplicity, but cleverness, courage, loyalty, loyalty… the one who asked without asking Thorin to let him in, let _him_ …

But that person was no more. He had faded with the world, and darkness had covered that beautiful face Thorin once beheld and held dear, and that now he could not quite remember. Colors flew in and out, trying to make up golden brown hair, blue eyes, a smile, a look of surprise, sorrow, tears… But they could not make him stay in Thorin’s mind. The person he had wanted by his side, whose presence he longed for even in his darkest hour, slipped quietly away from his memory, and with that every thought, memory and color faded, and Thorin knew no more.

* * *

Bilbo lay sobbing next to Thorin. He had _tried_ _–_ he would have given anything to save him. For a moment, he pondered in disbelief. _Is it done?_ Had it happened already? Did Thorin die? Strange… that moment when a soul passes to the other side. Could anyone truly know when that moment occurs?

Bilbo shuddered as a sudden thought visited him. _What if it hasn’t happened yet?_

What if it was about to happen, but it could be delayed?

_What if all we need is another moment?_

_And if I were to have another moment, if_ he _were to have it, what can be done?_

_What do I need to do?_

He raised his eyes and searched fervently for an answer. He thought of Yavanna, the protector of Hobbits, and of Aulë, the Maker of Dwarves. Maybe someone was listening. _Please hear me. Please tell me what I need to do to keep him alive. Now. I need this now._ With every strength left in him, Bilbo prayed for an answer. As he did so, the image of Thorin facing Azog on the ice alone came to his mind, and now he saw himself fighting a cruel and bitter enemy with all the courage he could muster. And his prayer became a fight.

A lady’s voice descended upon Bilbo, soft and bright, barely audible. “Tell him how you feel about him,” it spoke, and then it was gone.

This was new to Bilbo. He knew he cared deeply for Thorin, but his feelings were not easy to express. He certainly had never tried it before, busy as he had been handling various quest matters; and as of late, with Thorin’s gold sickness looming over, Bilbo had shoved whatever his feelings had become into a corner as he grew more and more disillusioned with the dwarf. But now…

 _Now_ , he said to himself. _I have to do this now, or I may lose this moment._ As he pondered what in the world he could say, the word “love” formed spontaneously in his mind, so present, as if it had always been there. _Love._ What did he know of love? Love could defy all kinds of obstacles, he had heard it before. Love was part of the fairy tales he so dearly loved. He just had never thought that it would be in his tale, too. It had always seemed something reserved for others, never for him. _Perhaps now_...

“Thorin,” he breathed, choosing not to look too closely at the body lying beside him. “I don’t know how much time we have. But we have _time_ , do you understand? You are still… still… _here_. And there is so much I have to tell you. So much that you mean to me. I have never felt anything like this in my life. I didn’t even know it was possible. You showed me things I did not know existed. This quest, Thorin… when I joined you and the Company I had no idea how it would change my life. I thought the thrill of the adventure, getting into danger and escaping it, that sort of thing, and traveling to your lost kingdom, was what I was pursuing. And to me it was worth pursuing. But in the end what consumed my mind completely was you. Your quest was taking back your Mountain, your home, while mine, well… I think it’s safe to say you became my home during this quest, Thorin.”

He stopped to check himself. Was he really saying all this? It felt easy. And it meant… maybe it meant that Thorin was still with him. As he shaped the words intended to reach the person beside him and extend this precious moment, realization of what he was saying dawned on him. It was the first time he had such thoughts about Thorin!

“I know we’ve had our differences, and I’m not asking you to come back to _me_. I just want– I _need_ _–_ you to live. To still be in this world. I will love you, always– but it will be enough for me that you live.”

Did he just tell Thorin he loved him? Bilbo stared wide-eyed into space in amazement, unbelieving. His surprise only grew when, the next moment, an Eagle landed next to the two of them, and Beorn greeted him anxiously from the Eagle’s back.

“Beorn! Please, Thorin needs help, now! Please take him to the healers!”

Beorn climbed down, spoke briefly to the Eagle, motioned Bilbo to get on its back, picked up Thorin’s wounded body and started moving toward the healers’ tents. Soon they stopped in front of one, and Beorn spoke with Gandalf eagerly, while Bilbo cried in desperation, “Gandalf, I beg you, don’t let him die!”

Gandalf looked at Thorin’s body, pressed his hand gently on his forehead, murmured a spell, then said hastily: “He will need Elvish care. I am going to try to get Lord Elrond here. In the meantime, Oin will see to him. Bilbo, stay close. I will be with you shortly.”

He turned to the Eagle and spoke to him in haste, while Bilbo and Oin laid Thorin on an improvised bed made of blankets and furs.

“Bilbo, he lives yet, but this is beyond my healing skills,” Oin said. “I will do what I can.”

Gandalf entered the tent. “I asked the Eagle to travel to Rivendell and ask Lord Elrond to come immediately. He is our only hope for Thorin.”

“And until then? Will you keep him alive? Please, Gandalf!” Bilbo repeated in anguish.

“I am trying,” said Gandalf. “I am doing everything I can– though how he is still alive after being wounded so is not clear to me.”

Hours passed that seemed like years, and Bilbo forgot everything but the unconscious body before him. As he kneeled down by Thorin’s side and continued to pour out words of affection to him, he began to see hope.


	2. Sounds in the Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin has a vision of what the future would look like for Bilbo if he were to die. Some of this chapter was inspired by the song "Patchwork" by Tindersticks, which goes with Thorin's POV here.

"This blue's a swirling ocean,

The green: the ambition,

The red is the guilt,

There's a lot of red...

The yellow is my sunshine,

Comes out on odd occasion,

Barely enough

To keep you around"

(Tindersticks, _Patchwork_ )

Thorin’s mind awoke as the cracks in the ice and in the walls began to form the sound of a regular beat, and a muffled voice began to sing softly. The song echoed from his mind into the world, shaping it vaguely, just barely. Blue, silver and grey began to dance in his darkness, and he heard the muffled voice singing of happiness that had never been meant for him, and of regret and loss beyond measure. Contemplative and seemingly detached, the voice seemed to be taking in the fading of the world, his own voice, he realized, making an attempt at accepting his fate. He had tried to use the same tone earlier, when he had parted with someone, with his…

Above his voice rose another. A second voice, beautiful, with a harp-like sound, filled with so much longing, was asking him to stay.

Thorin did not know whom the voice belonged to. But it was full of love, more love than he deserved. And he wanted to fulfill its request, right then and there, but he had no power. If he could stay, it would be by someone else’s grace, through the force of someone else’s prayer, as he himself was spent.

And then something happened that Thorin did not expect. His vision changed. There was no longer ice cracking in a dark, cold winter. Instead there was a bench in front of a round green door, and a Halfling with a restless, frowning face was sitting on it, writing on a piece of parchment. And there were tears on the parchment, quiet and resigned, and it felt as if that person would never be happy again.

Thorin approached him and said: “What’s wrong? Why are you crying?” and the hobbit stared at him in bewilderment, paused to gather his breath and then said, “I must be dreaming. It cannot be, for you died long ago,” and his voice sounded much like the voice Thorin had heard earlier, beautiful and harp-like, but broken this time… Thorin moved closer and said, “It is undoubtedly a dream, but why can’t it also be real?” And the Hobbit reached towards him, and Thorin saw himself fade, but could still see the creature in front of him, sinking in despair and letting out a scream, “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to say you died! Of course you didn’t, you are with me always! You just startled me, that is all!” and then begged for Thorin to return, and Thorin wished he could reach him-

And then Thorin was back in the song of cracked ice and blue and silver sky and stone, where he could still hear the two voices now mingled together. And he realized that the harp-like voice belonged to this creature, and that it was not yet a voice consumed by grief and despair.

_Do I have a choice here?_ he wondered. _To prevent this? I would gladly do anything, anything at all, so that he would be at peace, be happy. But… it is not up to me. I did much wrong, I have much to suffer for. This is not my choice to make. But let the suffering be all mine._ And then something in him clicked. His mind turned to his Maker, and spoke thus to him:

“Lord Mahal, I am not worthy of making this request, but if there is any choice allowed on my part, please, let me try to fix things. I can’t go back in time, but if I could still be in the world now, at present, I would try to act better. I would not fail you, or my family, my beloved nephews, and the one whom I must have wronged so much, this person who will cry endless tears because of me now.” He could not remember more than this.

Then Thorin heard the ice being remade whole, and the blue and silver began to shine in the darkness, eventually giving way to green, yellow and red, and the song ceased. And he knew that the yellow was his sunshine, the green was his ambition, and the red was the guilt. There was a lot of red. And the voice of his Maker was silent.

* * *

Thorin was lying in the makeshift bed, unconscious, yet still breathing. Despite his efforts, Gandalf was skeptical that a spell would keep him alive, and kept eyeing Bilbo curiously. Elrond finally arrived and treated Thorin’s wounds with a combination of medicine and Elvish incantations, and then pronounced that they just needed to continue to treat him and let time do the work.

Then Elrond turned to Bilbo. “It is a miracle that he survived. Do you know what happened? I am at a bit of a loss.”

_Love_ , Bilbo thought. _No, that’s not what happened. Time. I didn’t love him enough. I need to do more._ But to Elrond he just said, “There was time for him to be saved. The Valar must have intervened.”

“Mister Baggins, if you can, please stay with him. I need to step out. I’m going to be back shortly.” Then Elrond gave him a knowing look. “And, Mister Baggins… whatever it is that you did, _if_ you did… keep doing it.” Then he was gone.

Bilbo sighed with relief. _It’s working_ , he thought. He was exhausted, but did not want to sleep. _I need to be awake for him_ , he thought. _Every second that I am awake, I can try to fight for him to be alive. I cannot rest yet. Later. Later._

He moved closer to Thorin and kneeled beside him.

“Thorin, it’s going to be all right. You are going to come back.”

Thorin had seemed peaceful earlier, when he was dying. He had asked for forgiveness and said farewell to Bilbo. When Bilbo had assured him that he was glad to have shared in his perils, a peaceful smile spread over Thorin’s face. It seemed that Thorin was dying in peace. So why not let him go?

Bilbo had always deferred to Thorin; almost never said “no” to him, or even thought _no_ to him. He would have always followed him, to the ends of Middle Earth! But what did Thorin want now? Could it be that Thorin wanted to die? No, it didn’t look like Thorin wanted anything. It only seemed like he was going to accept his fate. It looked like _Thorin_ , for once, was going to follow.

So for a moment Bilbo allowed himself to think of what _he_ wanted. What he wanted was for Thorin to live.

It didn’t feel wrong. And the soothing voice that had spoken at exactly the right time… surely it was someone good, right? It had to be. So he continued to pour words of love for Thorin. Because that was what _Keep doing what you’re doing_ amounted to.

“You know… When you walked into my house that night… I thought it was something out of one of my books. When you sang that song… I knew then that I would follow you. And you weren’t even very nice to me! But I saw how you were trying to protect your people and the quest, and you were right in assessing me. Your manner, that’s another story- that certainly could use some work!” he laughed. “I liked you, Thorin, from the start. I don’t see how anyone wouldn’t. I took one look at your Company to see that they would have all followed you wherever you’d lead.

And then I heard the story Balin told… And I met with trolls, and I messed up so badly. But you came to rescue me and laid down your weapons to save my life. I felt like I could never repay you for that, or for saving me again in the Misty Mountains. Then in Rivendell, I learned more about you as we walked together and listened to Gandalf’s conversation with Elrond. Oh, Thorin, there was no time or disposition for me to understand it all. I wish I had – I still don’t understand this gold madness completely – I feel really terrified and stupid when I think about it. But at that moment, all I knew was that you were there with me, and for some reason I was granted this privilege, to be by your side while you were taking in what they were saying about you and your family. I’m not sure I was worthy of it, and yet you let me share in your burdens and your sorrow for that one moment. Who wouldn’t be crushed under this burden, going on a suicidal quest with thirteen companions? Who wouldn’t be ready to cave in at the sight of that smug Elvenking who denied you access through his land and yet, as soon as he heard of your escape, marched towards Erebor to claim his jewels by force? And yet you… Thorin, I know you can’t hear me, but believe me, I saw it all, I know who you are… I fell in love with you for all this, and more that I don’t know how to describe, but I will try, I will try my best now, Thorin…”

And so Bilbo continued into the evening, and at some point Elrond returned, and once again was pleased to see that Thorin was better than expected. And at that point, Bilbo decided to take things a step further and introduce some Khuzdul in his words to Thorin.


	3. My Prayer Flies Like A Word on A Wing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo gets hold of a secret object that helps him address Thorin more adequately. The title of this chapter is taken from David Bowie's beautiful song "Word on A Wing".

Bilbo stepped out of the tent in search of any dwarves who might help him find some Khuzdul resources. He had not had time to see anyone from the Company; he had only learned that most of his friends were either resting or helping to find and heal others.

After some investigation, he found Balin and Dwalin resting in a nearby tent. They did not seem displeased to see him, only concerned and apprehensive. Gandalf had told them that Thorin was not to be disturbed and that Bilbo and Elrond were with him.

Bilbo went right into it. “I need a Khuzdul manual,” he said. “I’ve been trying to talk to Thorin, even though he’s unconscious. Elrond feels that my presence is doing him good, and I think that talking in Thorin’s native language would help too. I understand that Khuzdul is very personal and meaningful to you, and that there are things that one cannot express in other languages… important things, that is.”

“And what, if I may ask, might you want to say to Thorin in Khuzdul?” asked Balin thoughtfully, echoed by a sarcastic chuckle from Dwalin.

“I… I talked to him about our quest, remembering the good times. There was that stuff he said about King Thranduil in the dungeons… You all had a good laugh about it, but I never learned what it meant. I want to make Thorin laugh again, if I can.”

At this, Balin looked like he wanted to help right away. With a sad smile, though, he said that there were no books on learning Khuzdul. After all, it was a private language. The existence of such books would have facilitated its falling into foreign hands, so Dwarves truly kept it to themselves. But Dwalin, who had paid very close attention, pulled Bilbo aside and whispered to him: “I have something you could borrow, but you are not to share this with anyone, nor can you speak of its existence. I expect you to give it back to me when you are finished with it.” With that, he turned and went inside his tent, and reemerged carrying a small, leather-bound blue notebook engraved with a silver pattern. He handed it to Bilbo and said, “This does not belong to me. So all the more you need to be very careful with it. Keep it hidden when you’re not using it, and return it to me as soon as you’re done with it. And no copying any words down, understood?”

“Who does this belong to?” asked Bilbo, who was more than a little curious about this sort of thing, not just because the notebook was so beautiful looking, really felt like a precious forbidden gift, but also because, given the private nature of Khuzdul and Dwarves in general, this object was not even supposed to exist!

“That is no concern of yours,” answered Dwalin gruffly, and repeated, “NO ONE can know that you have this.”

Bilbo nodded, thanked him and rushed back to Thorin’s tent. After checking on him, he sat beside him and opened the notebook.

It contained various lists of Khuzdul words with their translation into the common tongue next to them. The writing seemed hasty, and changed at times, the letters sometimes very intelligible and clear, and small and scribbly at other times, as if the author had been in a big hurry and had to run! Bilbo looked over the words. It seemed like a warrior’s journal; words for armor, shield, sword, axe, battle orders and cries, were among the first. Then came words for different crafts, metals, gems and rocks, then there were words of nature and weather, and even flowers and trees, Bilbo noticed laughingly. There seemed to be much thought put into this little thing.

Words filled about a third of the notebook, and when Bilbo reached the last written page, he discovered that it contained endearing terms. One after another, the words poured: treasure of treasures, gift of gifts, heart of hearts, love of loves. _This_ , thought Bilbo, _is mighty convenient_. But it was also very puzzling! Who would go through the trouble of translating those words into Westron on paper, when no Dwarf was allowed to do so?

Then he thought of Kili and Tauriel. Kili had shared with him his story of falling in love hard and fast in Thranduil’s dungeons. No doubt he was planning to woo Tauriel and keep her as his treasure of treasures. Surely this Khuzdul business was one of his ways to impress her. _Yes, this must be it, and it explains the silver and blue, Durin’s colors, the hasty writing, and the inclination for being reckless, fitting no one better than a certain young dwarf I know!_

With a sigh, Bilbo began trying to memorize some of the words. He was surprised to find the word _khalel_ among the terms of endearment, which apparently meant “peace of all peace”. It was beautiful, to be sure, but he couldn’t picture Kili say something like that. _What business is that of yours? You are lucky you got your hands on this thing, just leave it at that!_ he chided himself. Then he stuffed the notebook in his backpack, which Gandalf had retrieved from the Mountain after the battle, and sat at the side of Thorin’s bed.

“I’m back, Thorin. You’ll never guess what I’ve been up to. I hope this will be all right with you. I know how much you love your language, and you probably miss it since you haven’t heard it in a while…”

But it was not easy to start. He took Thorin’s hand and held it for a while in silence, while looking at him thoughtfully. Was he right to do this? He had no reassurance that Thorin even returned his feelings. There had been moments during their journey when it seemed like they had grown closer – certainly, Thorin had come to respect him, trust him, and, really, value him greatly – and of course, Thorin had given him a mithril shirt, which seemed like a big deal though Bilbo could not truly understand why… but love? That was a huge leap!

He began with the word that made the greatest impression on him. “ _Sanazyung_ ”, he muttered with some difficulty. Then he proceeded to try pronouncing the Khuzdul word for Oakenshield, which he had proudly put together using words from two categories. “Thorin… _Markhazghzars_ … _sanazyung_ ”. This had got to be the hardest thing he’d ever done, and he had faced Smaug!

He shied away from referring to treasure, mountain or heart in any way. Just looking at those words as they appeared in the mysterious notebook made him tremble with fear. Otherwise, he was quite happily engaged for a long while, reciting words from memory to Thorin, then going back to the notebook to scoop out some more, then back to Thorin…

A moment came when Bilbo was completely overcome with the most wonderful, brilliant emotion. He had just managed to put two important words together, “my love” and “always”, and had spoken them to Thorin quite eloquently, _amr_ _â_ _lime hikhthuzul_ , when he felt Thorin squeeze his hand very faintly. Bilbo gasped in surprise. “Thorin? Can you hear me?” and thought he saw a fleeting smile on the dwarf’s face. Still he remained unconscious, and Bilbo could only continue to say those words, _amr_ _â_ _lime_ _hikhthuzul_ , again and again. “I will be here with you always, Thorin, if you’ll have me,” he added, and so relieved he was that Thorin had given him a sign, that he let himself sleep for a few hours, right there by Thorin’s bed. “Good night, my _ahz_ _â_ _r_ ,” he murmured in contentment.

He dreamed of the battle, of Thorin being wounded, of finding him on Ravenhill and not knowing if he was going to live. He dreamed of being alone and cold, with no Thorin in this world, left with a map, a contract and a mithril shirt from him, going home and keeping it all in a chest under his bed. And he dreamed of a being that appeared like a light, calm and yet threatening, and spoke thus to him:

“Bilbo Baggins, you have done well in caring for Thorin Oakenshield. You have really gone above and beyond. And it is, indeed, looking good for him. You obviously love him, and love is a powerful weapon. You have used your love well, certainly better than using an object so close to your loved one’s heart…” Bilbo felt a pang at hearing these words. Something about this voice felt treacherous, like it was mocking his love for Thorin, but it was right, it made a good point. “But you should know… well, you probably know by now that some Dwarves have Ones. Each dwarf loves only once in their life, or not at all, and that for a dwarf not to find or be with their One is to be incomplete, a life of some measure of misery and discomfort.” Here the voice sounded friendly and concerned. It paused briefly, as if it was waiting for Bilbo to say something before it could go on.

But Bilbo could not speak. He was not sure he wanted to hear all this; this voice was seriously overstepping! Yet on it went, “Thorin has not met his One in his lifetime. His One passed away before they could meet, went to the Halls of Aulë and is waiting for Thorin there. So, if your beloved dwarf dies, he will meet his One, and that will count as some happiness for one like him, who has known so much pain, loss and regret in his life. Meeting his One would mean being finally complete, finally at peace… wouldn’t you call that a desirable outcome? Think on it, Bilbo Baggins. It is virtuous of you to try to keep him alive, but if you truly wish for his happiness…”

Bilbo jerked in his sleep in horror. “No!” he screamed, “If this means that Thorin should be taken from me…” Then he opened his eyes, looked around and again saw a peacefully breathing Thorin next to him – _oh good, he’s still here, why did I fall asleep_ _–_ and what was that about Thorin having a One who was waiting for him in Aulë’s Halls?

It felt like a blow to the head, much stronger than the one he had taken on Ravenhill. Bilbo immediately looked back at all his love declarations and silly reminiscing about their quest. Right, perhaps they were… unfortunate in light of this new information. But what hurt more was just how genuine everything had seemed. Everything that _had led_ to those words. Their journey together. The barrel ride. “Do as he says!”, Thorin had said, and it had always felt funny to Bilbo later when he remembered. What an awkward position for a king to be in! And Laketown. _I’ll vouch for him_ , and Thorin looking at him with unspoken, indescribable fondness. The key, that Bilbo almost dropped down the mountain in his Tookish haste, only for it to be retrieved by Thorin in time. And taunting Smaug: first Bilbo, completely unintentionally, when all he had tried to be was politely flattering, fear pouring out of his skin and then searing back in, and then Thorin, utterly and completely intentionally, roaring fire as deeply as Smaug himself, but it was the fire of his heart that consumed Thorin in a brilliant flame, leaving Bilbo open-mouthed in amazement. They had done all of this together; to Bilbo it felt so even when they had been apart.

Balin had mentioned to Bilbo during the quest that Thorin had never met his One. That was consistent with what the luminous being had said, though: he may have not met his One because his One was dead! How was Balin to know such a thing?

_Balin_ , he thought. _I need to find Balin_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Khuzdul:
> 
> khalel: peace of all peace  
> sanazyung: perfect love  
> markhazghzars: shield of oak tree  
> amrâlime: my love  
> hikhthuzul: always  
> azhâr: home
> 
> All words except "sanazyung" are taken from the Khuzdul dictionaries provided by The Dwarrow Scholar at [www.dwarrowscholar.com](https://www.dwarrowscholar.com).


	4. To Wish Impossible Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo has a talk with Balin and a debate with himself. Thorin has a second vision of what the future would look like for both Bilbo and himself if he died.

Dawn was breaking as Bilbo walked to Balin and Dwalin’s tent, not knowing what he could hope for. Thankfully, Balin was outside the tent, stretching and humming a melodious tune. Upon seeing Bilbo, his face relaxed into a smile. “Bilbo, my friend! What brings you here? I trust Thorin is still doing all right?”

“I… think so,” said Bilbo.

“It will be all right, laddie, you’ll see. He’ll wake up soon. He is made of sturdy stuff, that one, and he has much to live for.” Balin looked so hopeful and optimistic that Bilbo wanted to give him a huge hug.

Instead, he looked at Balin doubtfully. “Balin. I need to ask you for some advice… again.”

“Of course, Bilbo. Before you do, though, remember that I’m the one who counseled you on the Arkenstone matter. Now I’m not sure what to think, seeing as how Thorin ended up defeating the gold sickness by himself. Perhaps he would have managed just the same if he had obtained the Arkenstone. We’ll never know.”

“Oh, Balin. Your counsel was very valuable. You know Thorin best.”

“As you say, Bilbo. I trust that Thorin will soon be returned to us in body, as I already know he is returned in mind. And you? You had a chance to speak to him on Ravenhill, Dwalin informs me.” Balin had not had a chance to discuss this with Bilbo, and wanted to make sure his king would have approved of him treating Bilbo as a friend again.

“Yes, I did.” Bilbo suddenly wanted to sit down, and felt immediately cold.

“And you two were… on good terms?”

_Yes. Well, Thorin… he… wanted to say goodbye to me. He was not upset with me anymore. He called me a friend. And he…_ Instead of these words, though, Bilbo said:

“Yes. We were. He wanted to lead me out of Ravenhill, but before we could do so we saw Azog with Fili… and then we were attacked. And then I saw him after… after Azog. I believe that he forgave me, Balin. Even though…” Bilbo stopped to collect his breath, and it was clear that he couldn’t talk about this anymore.

Balin gave him a pat on the shoulder and a sympathetic look.

“Anyway… Balin, I need to ask you about… about Ones. You mentioned to me that some Dwarves have Ones, and that Thorin does not know who his One is. So I was wondering, because, you see, I really hope that Thorin will live. I’ve been trying to speak to him, in the hope that he can hear me and come back. But, part of me wonders if maybe Thorin would be better off going to Lord Mahal’s halls, just in case…”, Bilbo hesitated, “…just in case his One is already there. I mean, would Thorin really want to come back to us? Or perhaps he’s tired of living and hopes to be released from here and meet his One?”

Balin took a long, puzzled look at Bilbo. He seemed to be searching for the right words.

“I highly doubt that Thorin’s One is in Mahal’s halls, and I’m just going to leave it at that. As for him coming back, we’re all with you, laddie. We hope to see Thorin back with us. Don’t worry. You’ve done well in trying to get him to come back, and I trust he is in good hands with you.”

“Thank you, Balin. This was most helpful.”

Then Bilbo went back to Thorin’s tent, checked on him, and pondered. That luminous entity may have been wrong about Thorin’s One being dead– _well, unless his One is a non-Dwarf, I suppose!_ Bilbo laughed at the irony of this. Then the One could be _dead_ , just not in Mahal’s halls. _Bother and confusticate it all!_ Yet the entity may have been right in implying that Bilbo was not that One. So Bilbo decided to half-trust the being from his dream. It was the sensible thing to do. After all, it seemed to know some things about him and Thorin, and maybe it cared for Thorin, despite sounding cunning and not exactly loving. _I may not be Thorin’s One (how_ could _I be?), so I should really stop with those love declarations. I’ll talk of friendship instead. I’ll still try to bring him back. Balin supports this endeavor. I will trust Balin on this._

_Friendship_? a voice in his head laughed sarcastically. _Wow, you can make so quick a switch!_

_Well_ , he answered trying to stay calm. _Thorin is my friend. And that may be all he will ever be. It is not a small thing, and I will certainly cherish his friendship. Perhaps it’s not as good as love, but it’s the next best thing! Or maybe better, seeing as how love can make things very complicated sometimes!_

_Sure_ _, but… how will you feel, Bilbo Baggins, at the sight of Thorin getting crowned, with a beautiful queen by his side? After all, if his One is not in Mahal’s halls then where can they be? Surely close by, don’t you think? Maybe one of the beautiful Elves of Mirkwood? His nephew Kili_ _clearly_ _fell for one…_

Bilbo hung his head down. Thorin falling for an Elf was not a high probability, but… _Yes, it will be hard. But we’re not there now_ , he said resolutely. _Now, all there is is Thorin lying in a tent, unconscious. I’m going to do all I can to help him, and that is final!_

With that, he managed to silence the voice in his head, and he resumed talking to the sleeping dwarf in front of him. He shared Balin’s words, that everyone wanted to see Thorin come back and thrive as King Under the Mountain. Bilbo continued talking softly throughout the morning, pausing only when Elrond came to check on Thorin.

“Hmm… It seems Thorin Oakenshield is still doing well, but his progress is a bit slower now. Mister Baggins, no doubt you must be very tired after all your efforts to help your friend.”

“Oh, no. Not at all,” Bilbo protested. “I… Did you say his progress is slow now?”

“Yes, compared to the last times I checked. He is still within our reach; he has not left our world. But I sense that he is now slower to come back. You’ve been talking to him, correct? Did you… change something?”

“N- no.”

“Very well. I’ll return later. By all means, Mister Baggins, continue to care for him, but I suggest you eat and rest too.” And Elrond left again.

Bilbo sat at Thorin’s side, his head dizzy with thoughts. He _was_ tired, but he wasn’t going to rest yet, not when there was still much to do, or rather, to say. He found himself debating in his head again, asking himself what he would prefer, to be Thorin’s One but to have Thorin die, or to have Thorin live but no love between them? He tried to picture living in a world without Thorin, and that seemed to be worse than sharing the same world as just friends. _This subject matter is way over my head,_ he thought. _In truth I would very much prefer to be his One and have him live. But the way things are looking, that is probably impossible. I really ought to know my place. I don’t know what I was thinking, telling him I love him. I should be grateful if he didn’t hear me._ Yet he couldn’t resist whispering “I love you” to Thorin one last time, before saying goodbye to those words, for now.

He spent the rest of the day at Thorin’s side. Elrond came again, declared himself pleased with the king’s condition, and left. After a while Bilbo picked up the Khuzdul notebook again, looking for friendship terms. He felt a bit more at ease now that love was out of the way; a little less selfish. The Took in him had had his moment, going for more, trying for love rather than the safe space of friendship. Yet the being in his dream had managed to silence the Took. So the Baggins happily took over, and spoke to Thorin about valleys and waterfalls, about spring in Bag End, about trees and flowers and the color of sunshine, and continued to talk fondly about their adventure.

Thorin continued to sleep, and at one point Bilbo couldn’t resist and wanted to say _amr_ _â_ _lime hikhthuzul_ again. He thought about disguising it as a non-endearment, and ended up saying _akd_ _â_ _m hikhthuzul_ _–_ he wasn’t even sure he used the words properly but the spirit was there – and as he looked at Thorin he saw him move his lips and heard him rumble something, as if he wanted to give a reply. And Bilbo was so startled, he wondered if he should just go back to straight-up love terms. “Thorin?” he said, taking both Thorin’s hands in his, “Thorin, I am here.” But Thorin was silent. The magic moment had passed.

Still, this was progress, and as the evening settled Bilbo began to think of rest. He sat on blankets on the ground, next to Thorin’s bed. Bofur brought him some bread and water, which he gratefully accepted, and after consuming them ravenously he went to sleep. “Good night, Thorin,” he said. “My one and only adventure. I am always here for you. I am not going anywhere.”

* * *

The harp-like voice that had accompanied Thorin for a few moments during his journey through an endless night seemed to slowly change its song now. The voice sounded more detached, and was not begging him to stay anymore. It seemed that things would be all right either way. And then Thorin had a vision of a world forming again, in the shape of the same round green door, and the bench in front. The same creature was there, only now he was moving around more, greeting different guests, having parties, serving dinners, being busy with books and telling stories to children, traveling and spending time with Elves. This person seemed to have a fulfilled life, if not exactly happy, and long it was indeed, for in the blink of an eye, Thorin could see this person through time…

Thorin did recognize him, the same hobbit he had looked upon in his previous vision, and understood that he fared better in this second world. And this time Thorin found himself begging for the creature to see him, to let him enter his house. Yet the Halfling would not let him in, and even protested that he would not be pushed, that some things were better left at a distance, _and that includes you and your Mountain! I will never set foot there again! I’ve had enough trouble!_ he shouted. To his surprise though, Thorin saw himself enter the hobbit’s home through the closed door and follow him around.

Before he could think more on the strangeness of it all, something caught his attention. As he proceeded down the hobbit hole into an endless maze of hallways and rooms, he stopped in front of a chest that was gathering dust on the floor. Thorin found that despite the chest being locked he could see inside it. What he saw was a red book, and he found that he could see inside it too. So he willed it to open and realized it was a book about their adventure, and as he looked on the last pages he read, _They buried Thorin deep beneath the Mountain_ , and now Thorin knew that he himself was dead in this world too.

He continued moving, and saw the Halfling draw towards his desk and stare at a ring placed on it, his eyes glimmering in a way that reminded Thorin of his own former passion for gold. Yet the way this creature was bound to the ring was different from Thorin’s experience with the gold. The ring was turning him into someone secretive and deceitful. Thorin saw, then, in a brief moment, the same creature take an object from Thorin’s inherited treasure hoard, and keep it from him, and then give it to others, and out of the many things that were wrong with this what had angered Thorin beyond belief was that Bilbo had _lied_ to him-

And now he knew, oh, he knew who this creature was, and just _how_ he held his heart…

_Why is this important now?_ he wondered with sadness. _Why do I have to remember the bad in order to finally remember him?_

Then he glanced at the ring again. Bilbo seemed to be having a dialogue with it, and the ring was whispering something to him. But Thorin could not make out more than this.

Then the vision changed, and Thorin saw himself in his Maker’s halls, surrounded by stone, and there was no more green door at Bag End, only a life of loneliness and misery for him, because he now knew that Bilbo was his love and that Bilbo probably did not love him back, or if he did he got over it comfortably, and lived a long and satisfying life, in which Thorin was not mentioned hardly at all.

He saw himself implore Mahal to let him leave, and appear to Bilbo as a ghost, or in a dream, or vision, or _something_ , _anything_ , and attempt to talk to him, at least to see if Bilbo could possibly feel the same. But Mahal was unmoved. _Son of Thrain, you came here of your own choosing. You decided to fight in battle and went after a formidable enemy on ice of all things, a territory unfamiliar to you, when you could have walked away. My child, do not think it doesn’t pain me. I hoped you’d turn around and run so that you might be spared, but there you were, you didn’t learn after your previous confrontation with Azog… You will stay where you are, there may come a time for love, but you left all_ _that_ _behind when you decided to mount on Ravenhill…_

Thorin tried to tell him of his love for the hobbit. Mahal did not have any of it. _Ah, yes, this very special hobbit. I am touched, but if you loved him so much, why didn’t you cherish him when you were alive? Make a confession to him, try to secure his love? Why pine for him now, a bit too late?_

Thorin was dismayed. _I…_ But the words would not come. Instead, shame, hopelessness and grief, impossible to express. Yet the music of the harp-like voice was still there with him.

_Go to the forge, my son. That’s where many like you cleanse their sorrows. It will end in fire, that was something of your tune, right?_

_Then Father, let me sleep until the world is remade. I will be of use then. And maybe I’ll be able to find my One again. Please, Lord Mahal, please grant me rest from this misery. There is no comfort for me here._

_No, my son. I cannot grant you that either. I made you out of stone, so you will endure. You are stronger than you think. You’ll find things to do here. I know that your love will never fade, but you can put it to use, you can craft, you can make music, write books, create beautiful things with your hands. Take a page out of your hobbit’s book. He’s not wasting his time. He has more faith than you do._

_Faith? He has forgotten about me!_ Thorin released an anguished cry that echoed loudly in his mind. And then there was silence. It didn’t look like anybody heard him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Khuzdul:
> 
> amrâlime: my love  
> hikhthuzul: always  
> akdâm: adventure
> 
> [www.dwarrowscholar.com](https://www.dwarrowscholar.com)
> 
> "They buried Thorin deep beneath the Mountain" is a quote taken directly from Tolkien.


	5. In A Dawn So Very Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo has a second dream, in which he is told that Thorin will turn into a dragon if he lives.

“Just like a bird that sings up the sun

In a dawn so very dark

Such is my faith for you

Such is my faith

And all the world’s darkness can’t swallow up

A single spark

Such is my love for you

Such is my love

There is a kingdom

There is a king

And he lives without

And he lives within

...And he is everything” (Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds, _There Is A Kingdom_ )

Sleep did not prove fortunate for Bilbo. He kept waking up, worried about leaving Thorin unattended for long. Every time he woke, he took a look at Thorin, ensured he was still breathing, and then tried to go back to sleep. _This would be so much easier if I were actually sleeping right next to him_ , he thought. _I could hear or feel his breath. But no matter. I don’t suppose that will ever happen._ He tried to be content, to cherish those moments, but it was getting harder and harder, as the lack of rest was finally taking its toll on him. Finally, he succumbed to sleep once again, and hoped it would last until the morning just this time. Thorin would be all right, he had to be…

Towards the morning, Bilbo had another dream that featured the knowledgeable entity that had poured so much doubt into him just the night before. This time it appeared as a shadowy figure, and sounded more confident than ever. “Bilbo Baggins, you make an admirable attempt on behalf of your friend. Clearly you care about him a great deal.”

Bilbo wanted to challenge it right away, as he had many questions and doubts. Yet instead – perhaps due to being as tired as he was in real life – he only replied: “I do. As I hope you do too. After all, earlier you seemed to care about his fate.”

“Most certainly, my dear Halfling. That is precisely why I have come a second time: to warn you that, if Thorin Oakenshield does come back to the world of the living, it will not end well for him.” Bilbo shivered with horror, and the being seemed to take pleasure in that. “I’m talking about the gold sickness, of course,” it said gravely. “As you know, that malady lies upon his family, and it has already taken him once. If Thorin is allowed to wake up and go back into that mountain, the sickness will take him again. And this time there will be no cure. The only reason he snapped out of it is that there was a battle happening on his doorstep. It awoke his sense of duty. After all, it was his cousin’s army getting slaughtered. Not to mention it awoke his lust for battle. He is a warrior; he will not flee from a fight. But now, there is no battle anymore. He will have to face the gold sickness without an opportunity for heroic deeds. Who, or what, will pull him out of it this time?”

Bilbo took his head in his hands. This was a problem, and the being seemed to have already guessed his answer.

“You think you can pull him out, Mister Baggins? I wish you could. But I’m afraid this particular sickness is rather powerful. There is little that a simple Halfling like you could do. It wasn’t you who did it the first time, you know that. The sickness will destroy him. He will either die or become one like Smaug, his predecessor.”

“That’s impossible!” Bilbo shouted. “Thorin is nothing like Smaug!”

“Is he not? He will not part with a single coin! He almost killed you! He was fine with having war when he could have had peace! He promised treasure to the people of Laketown and then refused to give it to them, even though one of theirs slayed Smaug. You think this mindset won’t return? You are such a child, Bilbo Baggins!”

“I cannot claim to understand all that passed in his mind,” said Bilbo heavily. “I confess I do not understand it all. He and I will need to have a talk one day.”

“That’s right, because you _didn’t_ have a talk, did you? With the battle and his wounds, there was no _time_ for a talk! So you’re just guessing that he is of sound mind now, after leading his nephews into a death trap! You’re just guessing based on a few words he had for you as he was dying!”

“I am not _guessing_ ,” Bilbo said determinedly. “Thorin came out of the Mountain, when he could have stayed there. He could have sent his Company only, but he wanted to fight along. And he went after Azog. This is something that a good king would do. He didn’t have to do it. His words to me only reinforced that he was well again.”

“You’re right, but don’t forget that there _was_ a battle. A chance for him to act, to break out of his cage. Don’t you think that had something to do with it?”

Bilbo considered. He was tired, so tired. He didn’t want to argue anymore. “What is your point? That Thorin should just be going to the halls of his Maker?”

“My point, Mister Baggins, is that Thorin Oakenshield stands to die a good, heroic death, that would make his enemies green with envy, the kind of death that, actually, only an enemy would try to _stop_. And that if he lives, he will most likely become a dragon himself. He will lock himself in that mountain and live with the gold, and no one will dare enter for fear of what they will find there. That gold is cursed, and Thorin, son of Thrain, is powerless against that curse.”

“But there are ways to remove the curse.” _Aren’t there?_ Bilbo wondered. _Bilbo Baggins, are you stupid?_ he chided himself. _Do you really think this… thing will give you tips on how to cure Thorin?_ But it had worked before, hadn’t it? Even when facing someone shady or downright malicious, Bilbo had found that it was helpful to ask questions and even reveal some of himself. It had worked with Gollum, enough to get him to talk and buy Bilbo time, even if that meant putting up with some nastiness.

“Really? Do you know any?” the figure laughed, unperturbed. “By all means, continue to labor at your friend’s side. Friend, right? You’re being a good friend. Nothing selfish about it? You don’t want any of him for yourself?”

_I am not alone in wanting him to live_ , Bilbo thought. _The Company is with me._ And yet, uncertainty was creeping into him. What did he want for himself? Anything? Just to be _around_ Thorin, he thought. He just knew that his world would fall apart without Thorin in it. He didn’t know why; he hadn’t had the time to piece it together. His attempts at expressing his love for Thorin had not come out of firm awareness. It was more of a visceral reaction, something Tookish that took him. He wanted to pour an inexhaustible amount of good over Thorin, so he could save him, and the most good that one could find in this world was love. And... it had felt like the right word to match his feelings. As for how deep his love was, what form exactly it took, Bilbo could not say. What he knew for certain was that he needed Thorin to live.

“His presence in the world is something priceless, that cannot be replaced,” he said finally. “That is all I know. As it happens I am not the only one who wants him to live.”

“His _presence_ will soon become something so vile and dangerous that you and all his other friends will only seek to extinguish! And when you finally do so, there will be no dignity in his death; it will only be confirmed that the curse of Durin’s line lives on in him!”

Bilbo felt all energy leave his body. If this was a dream, he hoped it would end soon. If this was how he would sleep from now on, tormented by figures with persuasive voices, placing the heaviest burdens on his shoulders, then he would gladly forgo sleep next time. If it was real... well, he could still put an end to it; he just needed to find the right words.

“All I know is,” he finally said, “that I betrayed Thorin once. I thought I was acting in his best interest, and yet I missed some things that turned out to be important. What I did hurt him more than I could have predicted. I betrayed his trust. All I can say is that, if I were not to try my hardest to help him live, I would feel like I’m betraying him again.”

The shadowy figure was gone in a heartbeat, and Bilbo woke up shivering. He looked at Thorin, who was still sleeping, and put a trembling hand on his shoulder. Then he turned around and ran out of the tent as fast as he could.


	6. One Perfect Sunrise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lady Yavanna visits Thorin briefly before he is sent to Mahal's Halls.

Thorin found himself on the cracking ice once again. For the first time since he had parted with Bilbo, he could see more than just inside his mind. He saw that he was not alone. A beautiful golden-haired Lady was looking upon him with a warm, kind smile, and when she spoke Thorin felt all the coldness in his soul dissolve. “Child of my husband,” she said, and now Thorin knew it was Lady Yavanna, “you have been presented with two possibilities, two worlds to choose from. In both of them, you will go to my husband’s Halls after your fight with Azog. You have seen how Bilbo Baggins will be in each world. I offer no comment on that. My question to you is, which world would you choose for him?”

“My Lady.” Thorin bowed with respect, carefully choosing his words, even though this was madness, all of it, could not be real, or if it was, perhaps it was a joke in very poor taste. “It seems to me that in the first world, Bilbo will grieve me deeply, not be able to move on with his life, long for my presence, hope to see me in dreams… and in the second world, he…” Thorin struggled. “He will find a way for himself, quite easily, and will be comfortable and content, and enjoy a very long and prosperous life… and I don’t think a single thought of me will be part of it. So it seems to me that… that perhaps in one world he loved me, and in the other he didn’t- though I can’t be sure that he ever did.”

Yavanna continued to look at him carefully, as if wanting to penetrate his deepest thoughts.

“So it comes down to whether I choose that he should love me or not,” Thorin continued. “But that is a choice that only he can make. So how can I pick one of these worlds? It will come down to whatever Bilbo feels for me.”

“Oh, but you do have some power in that, don’t you think?” Yavanna smiled at him with encouragement.

“To make him love me? My Lady… I would not wish to argue this point. You see, all I did was alienate Bilbo from me.”

“Perhaps. You’re overthinking things, dear child. All I ask is, if you had the power to choose, what would you choose for Bilbo? A life where he can’t move on, and lives like a shadow, but a life in which he loves you? Or a life that is content and comfortable, full of small joys, though perhaps not happiness, yet a life in which he might not love you?”

“Can you tell me, Lady Yavanna? Can you…?”

“If he loves you? I cannot. I do not know the hearts of my children so completely. If he were to reveal the secrets of his heart to me, I would know. But he hasn’t done so.”

Thorin thought of the sad, despairing Bilbo in Bag End, clinging onto him, eyes full of tears, flowers withered in his garden, no friends, no company. And he thought of the other Bilbo, who had visitors and friends, was highly respected, told tales of his adventure with the dwarves, composed many beautiful songs and poems and shared them with others in peace and harmony. “I would wish for Bilbo to be happy,” he said. “I would choose the second world for him. If you can grant this to him, Lady, a good life… that would mean a lot to me.”

As soon as he said those words, his soul felt like it was breaking in two, with a finality that he had felt earlier, after his farewell to Bilbo, when all that had been left were the crashing sounds around him. _It’s a world where he doesn’t love me_ , he thought bitterly, and just in that moment a tiny memory popped into his mind. He recalled the ring on Bilbo’s desk, and Bilbo’s frantic face when he saw it, and the way he took it immediately in his hand, then put it in his pocket, then breathed a sigh of relief… _There is something, something here…_ Yet Thorin could not name it, and a heaviness fell upon him as he looked into Yavanna’s eyes with all hope for Bilbo and with none left for himself.

“Very well, child. I shall reflect on your answer. Now it is time for you to go to my Lord husband’s Halls.”

“Thank you, my Lady.” _This is it_ , Thorin thought. _My love, my only One, my everything. He is far away from me, and he does not, will not, did not…_ Which one of those he meant, and what he meant with it, he couldn’t bring himself to think, and he felt himself falling.

“One more thing,” Lady Yavanna turned towards him. “Should I see Bilbo Baggins, as I will one day, would you like me to give him a message from you?”

“Tell him…” Words Thorin’s mind had never put together before suddenly flowed into him, and he felt the urge to say them out loud. He stopped himself and considered intensely for a long while.

“That ring of his… I would tell him to be careful. It may be dangerous. All gold sometimes is. Tell him to take care that the ring should not corrupt his heart. His beautiful, noble…” and now Thorin was sinking into the ice, and it was all he could do not to say what he really wanted to say.

“Is this all? Nothing about love?” she inquired with a puzzled look.

“My Lady, you said that I may have power over his feelings. I doubt that, but if your words are true, then if I send him a message of love he might… I might shatter something in him. Because I will be dead. And then he might turn into the person I saw in my first vision. So I won’t do that. Though I do not know that I’m doing the right thing,” he muttered, wishing for this trial to end before he could change his mind. “Thank you for your kindness, Lady Yavanna. You have been… most gracious.” Tears were welling in his eyes now, tears falling over the ice, but the ice didn’t melt, and instead it seemed like it was looking at him in triumph, as Azog had done earlier. _I must have messed up again_ , he lamented. But Thorin had no more energy to put into this thought, and before he knew it, the scenery changed and he was in Mahal’s halls, for real this time.

“Ah, finally. Thorin, son of Thrain, is here,” said Mahal with a spring in his voice that had not been there when he had spoken in Thorin's vision. “My child, you have been expected after your last confrontation with Azog, but it seems you were delayed. By something, or someone.”

“Lord Mahal.” Thorin bowed deeply. _One moment_ , he thought. _That is all I have._ _I will try to get through this moment and nothing more._ He had had enough of everything.

“My child, I had no intention of sending you back. My wife, however, informs me that in light of your answer to her, she would have me let you return to the world of the living. She says you know of what I speak. Apparently you did something selfless, which appears to have sat well with her. No surprise there. She cares about that hobbit of yours deeply.”

“My Lord,” Thorin whispered like a shadow. “Your wife… spoke to me. I didn't think this could be...”

“I know. You, selfless? My most stubborn and arrogant child? Ah, but she sees where I cannot. I will let her have this one. The matter is settled; you will return now. And take care, don’t walk into peril so easily next time, or I will not be so… relaxed about it.”

“My Lord, you said I was delayed in coming here. How? How is it possible?”

“I haven’t looked into it,” Mahal said, looking slightly bored. “I will only say I wasn’t the one who delayed you. Perhaps you have some friends in high places. By the way, before you go, I’m just curious, does that hobbit of yours love you? You seem so invested in him. Do you think he is worth it in the end?”

“I do not know if he loves me,” said Thorin. “I wouldn’t if I were him. But he always managed to surprise me.”

Mahal laughed. “Well said, my child. Now get out of here.”

“Thank you, Lord Mahal. Please thank Lady Yavanna for me. She will have my eternal gratitude. I will never forget.” After saying these words, Thorin felt himself breathe for the first time in a very, very long time. “He is... more than worth it,” he completed his answer to his Maker, and they exchanged a smile as if they understood each other perfectly.

Mahal disappeared, and Thorin was taken back to the ice on Ravenhill. He felt a touch of warmth on his hair, his face, and his hands, and his eyes started to open slowly. As he beheld the sun rising over the ice, he heard a new song, and felt Yavanna's presence in that beautiful voice that moved up with the sun and melted all the ice in his head, the voice of kindness and generosity that had led him out of the darkness for good. And he saw the stone his mind had painted earlier, and in the burning sun the flowers grew bigger and brighter, and he smiled at how whimsical they were in their simple beauty. As he lifted his hands and tried to bring them together in prayer and gratitude, he woke up in a bed, and as he looked up he saw Elrond look upon him with care…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song playing when Thorin beholds a sunny Ravenhill as he begins to wake up is Orbital's "One Perfect Sunrise". The voice of Lisa Gerrard, featured in this song, is the closest I can think of what Yavanna's singing would sound like.


	7. Convergence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo and Thorin see each other after Thorin wakes up. This chapter now has fan art I created especially for it :)
> 
> The song that goes with this chapter is a wonderfully rare occurrence that includes both points of view, alternately, in its lyrics.

“There lies my passion hidden

there lies my love

I’ll hide it under a blanket

lull it to sleep

I’ll keep it in a hidden place

He’s

the beautifulest

fragilest

still strong

dark and divine

and the littleness of his movements

hides himself

hides in the hair

can I hide there too?

hide in the hair of him

seek solace

sanctuary

in a hidden place”

(Björk, _Hidden Place_ )

Seeing that it was dawn brought Bilbo some relief. He would not be tempted to sleep again and thus risk being so powerless against that heartless, calculating thing that had never clarified on whose side it was and what it really wanted. Yet Bilbo could not help but remember all he had gone through with Thorin, changed beyond reach, just days before. If Thorin did survive, he _would_ go back to the Mountain. And then…

Shaking with cold, Bilbo tried to wrap his coat more tightly around himself, only to realize he was not wearing his coat. Instead he felt the mithril shirt on his hands. _E_ _ffective against any blade but not so much against the cold_ , he thought. In his haste after waking up from his nightmare, he had left the tent paying no mind to the harsh winter outside. That strange entity had managed to instill fear into him. In his mind he could already see Thorin in the hall of Kings, sitting on his grandfather’s throne, talking about moving the gold downward, to halls beneath halls… He could see Thorin beholding the treasure hoard for days on end, with needful eyes, not caring if it was day or night, if he was hungry, thirsty, or tired… Thorin obsessing over the Arkenstone, suspecting his kin and... _ready to kill for it_ _? To die for it?_

“Bilbo Baggins!” he heard a voice behind him. It was Gandalf, coming towards Bilbo in a hurry. “You must come at once. Thorin is awake!”

He looked up at the wizard. Gandalf must have said something more, but Bilbo couldn’t hear a word. As he looked around, trying to remember the direction he had come from, he felt that time itself stopped. Everything was happening at once, and before he knew it he was running back towards Thorin’s tent.

* * *

Thorin had been awake for about half an hour. The first person to greet him had been Elrond. “Welcome back, Thorin, son of Thrain,” he had said with his usual genuine politeness. “I am happy to see you returned.”

Thorin had looked at him in bewilderment, thanked him and asked for news of the Company, his voice trembling with fear at the names of Fili and Kili.

“Everyone is alive, as far as I know. Princes Fili and Kili were badly wounded, though, and are currently in the Woodland Realm as guests of King Thranduil. We thought this was for the best.”

“Mirkwood,” Thorin grimaced. “Is Thranduil really willing to help them? We did not part in the best of terms… again.”

“His son, Legolas, and Captain Tauriel are there with your nephews. I believe King Thranduil is helping as well, perhaps as a favor to his son. Legolas speaks highly of your deeds in battle.”

Then Elrond had stepped out for a few minutes to notify Balin and Dwalin of their king’s awakening. The next moment, the two brothers stormed into Thorin’s tent, ready to suffocate him with hugs. Elrond advised that Thorin still needed rest though, and Balin and Dwalin were content to just pat him on the shoulder, sit by his side and chat for a while.

“Lord Elrond,” Thorin said after they left, “Thank you. I am humbled that you came all this way for me.”

“You have Gandalf to thank. He sent for me immediately upon finding you. And… there is a person you might really want to thank, who I don’t believe left your side.”

“He is… he’s alive,” Thorin murmured. At that moment, Bilbo entered the tent, panting.

“Mister Baggins. I was just about to tell King Thorin about your help in his recovery; unprecedented, in my opinion. I’ll leave the two of you now. I will come by later.”

“Thank you, Lord Elrond,” Thorin repeated with great emotion. “It’s just Thorin for now.” Elrond nodded in acknowledgment and left.

Thorin stared at Bilbo and struggled for words that would not come. Bilbo stood at the entrance of the tent, staring back at him, trying to command his mouth to make a sound. “Thorin…” He started sobbing uncontrollably, as if to wash away all the frustration, fatigue and helplessness he had been subjected to for so long. This was real. Thorin was awake.

Thorin raised his hands as if he wanted to reach for him. “Come here,” he said softly, and Bilbo came and kneeled by his side, looking down. Thorin raised a hand and lay it on his shoulder, and began to brush his tears with his fingers. “You,” he finally said. “You’re alive. You’re here with me. So it must mean that I’m alive too.”

“It’d better,” Bilbo said with a frown, and with that he found his voice. “How are you feeling, Thorin?”

“I am feeling somewhat refreshed, actually. I was out for quite a while, and though some aspects of that have not been pleasant, it seems I managed to get some rest.”

“Are you happy? To be here?”

“ _You_ are here,” Thorin said with a glowing smile, “so how can I not be?” Yet Bilbo pressed, “Are you happy to be alive?”

Thorin sighed. “I’ve just learned about Fili and Kili. They are badly wounded, especially Fili. I don’t deserve to live after what I did to them. I led them into a trap. They live yet, but may just become shadows of themselves.”

“Thorin… I didn’t want you to... I just couldn’t let you... I wanted so badly for you to live.” Bilbo looked at Thorin almost apologetically, only to receive a look of pure gratitude in return. “As for Fili and Kili... They would have followed you no matter where. All of us would have. Do you not understand? They _wanted_ to be where you were. They would probably do it again.”

Thorin continued to brush his tears away. “And you? Are you happy to be here, Master Baggins?”

“There is nowhere else I’d rather be.”

“Good. Then let’s just have you stay here.”

Bombur stepped inside the tent and offered Bilbo some food. Thorin insisted that Bilbo should eat right away. He appeared to know somehow that Bilbo had neglected himself and only cared for him all this time. So Bilbo happily ate, and as soon as he was finished he again kneeled on the bed at Thorin’s side and asked, “Is there anything I can do for you?”

“Yes. There is.” Thorin lifted his head and sat up against his pillow.

Bilbo gasped. “Are you all right? Should you be sitting like that?”

“I am fine,” Thorin smiled. “I want to…” He turned towards Bilbo and placed his hands on his shoulders, then pulled Bilbo into a hug.

* * *

Bilbo presses his head against Thorin’s shoulder. Thorin’s arms surround him gently, and Bilbo holds him back reluctantly, for fear of disturbing his wounds. As he takes in this moment, he and Thorin holding each other close, it feels as if Bilbo’s body is leaving him. He is a form against a solid block of matter. Thorin brings one hand up to his shoulder, and begins to stroke the links of his mithril shirt one by one, repeatedly. And with each stroke Bilbo could swear he hears a trickling coming down from above, like icicles melting, and it’s turning into music, and now it feels like Thorin is playing an instrument made of silver steel, made of air, made of him. Thorin releases him slowly, they look at each other, and Bilbo’s fingers go from touching Thorin’s hair to his eye, to his temple, and his cheek, as if he still can’t believe this is real. With every touch, Thorin trembles, his eyes blink in wonder, and small tears stream down his cheeks and reach Bilbo’s fingers. Yet instead of feeling Thorin’s tears on his fingers, Bilbo feels tears streaming from his own eyes, and feels a touch on his own eye, his temple, his cheek, and soft fingers running through his hair. As he brings his hand to his eyes, there is nothing there, no tears, and as he looks down he sees Thorin’s hands, one holding his own hand and one still touching his shirt. And now he knows that he is feeling what Thorin is feeling. He breathes, and wonders if this is what it’s like for Thorin to breathe, and if he were to say something, would it be him or Thorin. “I feel you,” he lets out, and the words fill him with light, and he drinks from that light and wants more, but he is going to be...

_P_ _atient_ , Thorin tells himself. _I need to be patient_. He wraps his arms around Bilbo, and it’s easy, the air around them so charged, so warm, _contain what I feel, hide what this person means to me, for no_ _w-_ He wants to offer Bilbo space, safety, and comfort, he wants to make Bilbo happy whatever that might mean. Peace settles in his heart, slowly, steadily, _I will stay with him in this moment, I will hold him, I will wait for him to show me_...

He sees the shirt that Bilbo is wearing, his fingers touch it lightly, and as he gently pulls away from the hug he takes Bilbo’s hand in one of his while continuing to touch the mithril with the other. In his soul a new space opens, and he wonders how it could not have always been there, for this feels so real and so right. And Bilbo moves into that space, and says something to him that fills him with light, and Thorin wants more of it, wants to take it all, but he needs to be patient, he will take it slowly... _I feel you in me_ , he does not say, and he waits, he waits...

* * *

“You will need to wear this for a while longer,” Thorin whispered to Bilbo. “It’s not safe here yet.” At Bilbo’s _I’ll be fine_ gesture he continued, “Do you understand? You still need protection. This is the best protection I can offer you.”

“I will, Thorin. If that will ease your mind. Now, really, is there _anything_ I can do for you?”

“There is one thing. I would have you sleep next to me, right now. You need not worry about me. I trust I will recover. But you, you are exhausted and have been wounded too. It’s your turn to rest and be comfortable. I will be here with you.” “But what if you need something while I sleep?” Bilbo asked. “The Company will keep watch over us. They will check on me regularly. I have yet to see some of them, and this will be a good opportunity.”

They lay next to each other, and Thorin covered him with blankets, placed an arm over him and said something to him in Khuzdul, and for all of Bilbo’s secret lessons he couldn’t remember seeing those words in the blue notebook. And Bilbo lifted his face once, looking at Thorin intensely as if he wanted to memorize every feature, beautiful and alive as he was now. And when he brought his head back down he felt Thorin’s hair cover it slightly, and tickling his face in fleeting movements as a gentle breeze rolled in from the outside, and even the breeze felt like Thorin. He softly spoke Thorin’s name a few times, and heard a whisper in his ear, “I am here. Sleep now, _adal khulthul_ , sleep... and may your dreams be made of heaven.” The words slowly turned into a lullaby, and he fell asleep with the sound of Thorin in and around him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Khuzdul:
> 
> adal: dream  
> khulthul: heaven-like
> 
> [www.dwarrowscholar.com](https://www.dwarrowscholar.com)


	8. Nothing Really Ends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The good, the bad... both continue in some form of another. As real life sets in, Bilbo and Thorin attempt to discuss Arkenstone-related matters and prepare for a trip to Mirkwood.

For the first time in a long while, Bilbo slept soundly and peacefully, through the morning and part of the afternoon. When he woke up, he took a moment to realize where he was. He was in Thorin’s tent, no doubt, but where? He felt Thorin’s arm over him, turned to look at him, and all came back to him in a rush.

Thorin was _there_ , watching him intently. “Tell me you’ve had a good rest.”

“I did. And you?”

“I’ve received more visits from our friends.” Thorin moved his arm and sat up. A dwarf not known to Bilbo walked in, bringing tea and lunch. While Bilbo ate, Thorin gave him news of the Company. “They are all well,” he said. “They’ve kept things going while I was out. Balin is a treasure. He’s been smoothing things out with Bard.”

“I imagine you want to talk to some more people soon?” Bilbo asked.

“After I talk to you, if you’ll have it.”

“Oh.” Bilbo tried to hide his alarm. Perhaps Thorin did hear some of the love statements he produced while the dwarf was unconscious. Was it time to explain himself? He considered what he might say. _I’ll tell him I love him_ , he thought. _I’ll tell him_ _I couldn’t go on_ _without him_ _._ Was it true, though? Or was it just what had been needed in the moment? But why would he say something just because it was needed? _Oh, I don’t know, maybe it’s the same as what you did with the Arkenstone? Playing with Thorin’s heart, for the greater good, of course!_

Bilbo blinked in disbelief. Where had that come from?

_I will tell him_ , he resolved himself quickly. If Thorin could face Azog all by himself, get stabbed in the chest and yet live, he could muster the courage to say how he felt... how he’d never felt before.

“Of course.”

“I want you to know how sorry I am for my behavior on the ramparts,” Thorin began. “I have taken back my order of your banishment. I was wrong to give it in the first place.”

“You weren’t wrong,” Bilbo said in a hurry. “You weren’t.”

“I was. For many reasons. You may not accept them, but accept at least that if I had kept you with me I may have made better decisions. I may have snapped out of the gold sickness earlier. Bilbo... There are no words to express my regret for what I did. I repaid your constant support with hatred and rage. But I want you to know that… if I can help it… I won’t let it happen again.” Thorin’s voice trembled as he continued: “And I’d like to think I can help it. You will never see me like that again.”

“Thorin, I am not holding anything against you. I never did. You were rightfully upset; I betrayed your trust. It pains me so much to think about it. I remember the hurt in your eyes. I… I never thought I would stand face to face with you again after that. I thought you’d banish me forever. Even now, part of me wonders if this is a dream. Not because I don’t believe you’d forgive me- I’ve seen the true you, which is more than I thought _anyone_ can be. Earlier on… when you charged out of the Mountain, and then on… on Ravenhill.”

_Stop it. He is awake now. There is no more need for you to revisit the story of how you fell in love with him. Focus, Bilbo Baggins_ , he told himself with a frown. Yet the torrent of memories couldn’t be readily stopped, and Bilbo thought of Thorin’s parting words to him. He had stared incredulously at Thorin as he heard him ask for forgiveness of all things, and send him home to watch his trees grow, as if nothing was easier. “I guess what I’m trying to tell you is... that I’m sorry too. For hurting you. And I’m glad to come back where I belong... for that is where I belong, Thorin, with y... with your Company. But I’m not sure... do you really think that my place is here, after all that has happened?”

Thorin opened his mouth with utter certainty, determined to tell Bilbo the words that he had meant to tell him for so long – or at least, one version of them – _you belong with me, always_ , but at that very moment Bard walked inside the tent, greeting Thorin promptly.

“King Thorin, I am so glad to see you are recovering. I have come at your request. Mister Baggins, it is good to see you also.”

“Lord Bard,” Thorin greeted in return. “Thank you for coming.”

Bilbo made as if to leave, somewhat embarrassed, but Thorin motioned him to stay. “I have nothing to hide from you, Master Baggins.” Then he spoke to Bard: “I wish to honor my pledge. I promised you a share of Erebor’s treasure, which is now more needed than ever for rebuilding Dale. I have sent my Company to get gold and silver from the Mountain. They should arrive back shortly. I’d like you to take a look, and if all is in order, to accept it with my deepest apologies.” He looked at Bilbo as he finished speaking, as if he wanted to see if Bilbo would approve.

“King Thorin, your words are most welcome. I will gladly accept what you offer, as well as your apologies. I will say that I too am sorry for how things turned out. You should not have had to make decisions with an army on your doorstep. That would affect anyone’s judgment. I am glad we lived to see better times.”

Thorin nodded in appreciation. It was nice to be acknowledged this way. To treat with Bard and Thranduil with an Elven army ready to take his Mountain by storm had been the most difficult thing for him. Apologize he did, he wanted to do the right thing after all, as he’d promised in his prayer to Mahal, and he most definitely wanted to be worthy of Bilbo’s forgiveness. But that didn’t mean it hurt any less to remember Bard pulling out the Arkenstone from his coat pocket, the smug Elvenking loving every minute of the drama, his own disbelief… _this can’t be… it can’t be…_

Not for the first time, Bilbo and Thorin were having the same thought. And they were both hurting: Thorin for himself, and Bilbo for Thorin.

Nori entered the tent and announced the Company had arrived with the treasure. Bard inspected it and declared himself satisfied. “My Company will bring it to your tent,” said Thorin. “If you’d like further help transporting it, let one of them know. I will be gone for a while, but Nori, Dori, Ori, Oin and Gloin will still be here, and they’ll be happy to help.”

“You’re going somewhere?” Bilbo blurted out in shock.

“I am. I want to see Fili and Kili. I need to be by their side, so I’ll be going to Mirkwood.”

“About that…” Bard said, and now, as he averted his eyes from Thorin, it was becoming clear that he was very uncomfortable. “King Thorin, we all agreed I’d return the Arkenstone to you in exchange for the promised gold. And I would do that in a heartbeat, but…” Thorin gave him a measured look. “I gave the stone to King Thranduil, right before the battle started. When I saw the orcs coming, I thought the Arkenstone would be safer with him, as I didn’t have the manpower to protect it. I told him it’s for safekeeping, and that as soon as you gave me the promised share I would want to return it to you. Unfortunately, I had no chance to retrieve it from him. After the battle, he and Princes Fili and Kili left immediately, carried by Eagles. I didn’t have a chance to speak with him. Anyway, you’re going there, so…”

“I beg you would excuse me,” said Bilbo, who could no longer handle being in attendance of this meeting. “I’m going to get some air.” Thorin nodded to him, then turned to Bard. “Can you guarantee that Thranduil will give me the stone back?”

“I don’t see why he wouldn’t,” said Bard. “It is yours. Also, I will write to him as soon as I get to my tent, to assure him that you completed your end of the bargain.”

“I wish I could trust that the matter would sort itself out,” Thorin said. “At any rate, my nephews are there, and I wish to see them. I will not waste any moment. If you have something to say to Thranduil, I will stop by your tent later, on my way to Mirkwood, and carry your message.”

“Very well, then. I shall not keep you any longer, King Thorin. You have my gratitude for the gold and silver you gave us. May your days be blessed.”

“Same to you,” Thorin rumbled, not terribly enthused. His burden had felt light for a few hours, and now some things were coming back to him.

Bard exited, and Bilbo came back. “Thorin,” he began immediately. “I am so, so sorry.”

“It is not your fault, Master Baggins. Please think no more of it.”

“I gladly won’t, not when I hear you are going to... _Mirkwood_? Please tell me I heard wrong. You’ve only just woken up! What of your wounds? How will you get there?”

Bilbo watched in shock as Thorin stood up for the first time since Ravenhill. “You can _stand_? _How_?”

“Let’s just say Elrond’s medicine was really effective,” Thorin said with a grin.

“It can’t be! For you to feel well enough to travel… you’re being hasty again, Thorin Oakenshield! How is this a wise idea, when you’re supposed to rest?!”

“I have rested. I feel refreshed. I need to see my nephews. But you, Master Baggins, must remain here. You will continue to need food and rest. I know you deprived yourself in order to take care of me. It is important that you be taken care of now.”

“Thorin, _how_ in the world did you recover so quickly?”

Thorin held Bilbo’s gaze for a few moments. He stepped closer to him, a smile of pure love in his eyes, always meant only for him. “I had help, Master Baggins. And I really, really wanted to come back.”

Bilbo thought for a second. What help could he have had? Was he talking about Bilbo? _No, it couldn’t be. I wouldn’t have that kind of power. What if… his One, from Mahal’s halls, sent him help?_ Maybe Thorin wanted to come back for Fili and Kili. _It’s possible. So it wasn’t me who helped him._

“And now, I must get ready for my journey.”

“Thorin, if you insist on going, I’ll go with you. I will not stay here. I couldn’t bear it if something happened to you.”

“I _have_ come to see that when you are present I am better protected. But…”

“If this is about my recovery, I won’t hear of it. I won’t be able to rest knowing you may be in danger.”

“Master Baggins,” Thorin said gravely, no trace of a joke in his tone. “What if I were to _order_ you to stay here, for your own benefit?”

Bilbo pondered with a teasing look. “A king’s order?… I wouldn’t try it if I were you. Anyway, you might need my diplomatic skills in negotiating with Thranduil.” He meant it as a joke, yet Bilbo’s voice came out bitter and sarcastic.

“Your ring, is that right? That is what you’re thinking,” said Thorin. He meant it lightly too. He wasn’t going to chastise Bilbo. Yet he needed to get some things off his chest. “You’d slip on the ring and come with me anyway, and pop in in the middle of negotiations, to give Thranduil a piece of your mind. Or, even better, take the Arkenstone from him while invisible. Is that what you mean?”

Bilbo’s jaw dropped. _To run, to hide..._ there was nothing else he wanted right now. “How do you know…”

“I was, and _am_ , our Company’s leader,” Thorin answered. “And you are part of the Company, whatever your current thoughts on the matter. It was my responsibility to watch you closely.” _Not just part of the Company_ , he couldn’t help thinking to himself. _P_ _art of me, and as such I’ve immensely enjoyed watching you closely. Every. Single. Time._

“Thorin, I don’t know what to say. Other than… I want to come with you.”

“Then come with me. But let me be understood. I need to be able to trust you, and I need you to trust _me_ as I trust you. And ideally… to do as I ask,” he finished with a smile.

“I want to, Thorin. I do trust you, more than you know. But you are known to get in trouble. And you’ve just woken up! I can’t leave you out of my sight.”

“If it’s any comfort to you, I’ll have Balin and Dwalin with me.”

Bilbo opened his mouth to say something, but no words came. _I belong where you are_. This was what he wanted to say. _So say it! Say it_ , he told himself. _You idiot, you almost lost him! And now you can’t say one little thing!_

He took a deep breath. “I feel like… I belong where you are. And this trust… it can be how you said. I can be that person. I just need more time to build that trust once more, after everything. That sounds reasonable, don’t you think?”

Thorin enveloped him in a loving gaze, drinking in the sight of him. “Tell me that one more time.”

“I belong where you are, Thorin,” Bilbo murmured, closing his eyes, and for some reason the memory of their hug on the Carrock stirred vividly inside him. “With you. No matter where you go.”

Thorin looked deep in thought for a moment. “I know you once told me you belong in Bag End. Just the other day, you wanted to plant that acorn in your garden, and remember the good, the bad… If you keep following me, you may run out of luck and never make it home.”

“That was before…” He didn’t want to say it, but it appeared Thorin guessed his thought. “Before I almost died?”

Bilbo felt a rush of tears on his cheeks, while Thorin contemplated brooding for a moment. _So he doesn’t love me. He’s just affected by my near death. He probably feels sorry for me, not to mention traumatized. I gave him quite a scare._ It would have been so easy to keep going in this style; yet Thorin wasn’t going to deal with this right now.

Meanwhile, something Tookish was struggling to find a voice and speak out loud on Bilbo’s behalf, _There is so much more I have to say to you, Thorin, so much more I have to say to you…_

“You went through a lot, Master Baggins. I would have you rest properly and have some time to sort out your thoughts. However, if you insist on coming, I will not stop you.” Thorin brushed Bilbo’s tears again, barely touching, while continuing to hold him with his eyes, sunshine and sweetness in his smile. Then he pulled him close, pressing their foreheads together, and said: “There is still much to discuss. Yet I mean to leave as soon as possible. Come. We need to get ready.”

Bilbo watched him in a daze as Thorin released him and started packing. Hazily, he remembered he had a backpack somewhere and… the blue notebook! He needed to return the mini-Khuzdul dictionary to Dwalin. _When Thorin goes to Bard’s tent, I’ll do it_. As they exited the tent, Thorin made for the neighboring one that hosted part of his Company. Balin and Dwalin stood there, waiting.

“Everything is ready, my King,” Balin said fondly. “Dain will begin moving his dwarves into the Mountain shortly, now that you are awake, with your blessing.”

“Good. I trust you have Thranduil’s gems?”

“I do, along with some food provisions and weapons. Bilbo, are you coming with us?”

“I am.”

Balin and Dwalin exchanged a knowing grin, as if they had expected nothing less, and they all started on their journey to the Woodland Realm.


	9. In A Mirror, Dimly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin meets Tauriel and sees Fili and Kili. The song I chose for this chapter (Linkin Park, "With You") reflects Thorin’s dealing with the memory of Ravenhill as he tries to talk to his unconscious nephews.

“I woke up in a dream today to the cold of the static

And put my cold feet on the floor

Forgot all about yesterday

Remembering I’m pretending to be where I’m not anymore

…Now I’m trapped in this memory

And I’m left in the wake of the mistake, slow to react

Even though you’re close to me

You’re still so distant

And I can’t bring you back

It’s true, the way I feel

Was promised by your face

The sound of your voice

Painted on my memories

Even if you’re not with me

I’m with you

...You, now I see, even when I close my eyes”

(Linkin Park, _With You_ )

“How do we know you come in good faith, Thorin Oakenshield? We know there is no love lost between you and our King. Why should he welcome you?”

“I come in peace. I have brought him something he greatly desires. I would speak with him at once,” Thorin answered a group of Wood Elves who, much like last time, surrounded him and his small Company.

The elves escorted them to the bridge and on to the Woodland King’s palace. Thranduil was waiting for them on his throne.

“Greetings, King Thranduil. I’ve come to return something of yours, and hear news of my nephews. I dare hope that I may see them, with your permission.” Thorin gestured at Balin, who pulled out a small box and placed it in Thorin’s hands.

“Welcome, King Under the Mountain. What an interesting sight. I see the Halfling is back by your side.” Bilbo wished he could give a stinging reply. He bowed to Thranduil, as a feeling of uneasiness started creeping on his skin.

“King Thranduil, allow me to present you the jewels of Lasgalen, as a token of my gratitude for your generosity to my sister-sons. Thank you.” Thorin opened the box and offered it with careful movements. Before Thranduil could bite back that those jewels were rightfully his and no “token of gratitude” at all, his gaze hovered upon them, beautiful white gems of pure starlight, his heart’s desire for so many long years, speaking of a love lost, but never broken, a love soft and precious, a memory from an age past. He reached for the gems, his hands trembling in remembrance of the humiliation he had endured years before, when Thror had shown him the same gems only to deny him their possession. Yet in place of Thror now there was another tall and proud dwarf, who possessed his grandfather’s bearing, but a freer mind. And there Thorin stood, unmoving as a statue, waiting in grave, deep silence.

Thranduil took the box, and continued to stare at the gems in silent awe. When he finally recalled he was in the presence of guests, he spoke: “Thank you for bringing these so promptly, King Thorin, though I suspect the reason for this haste has more to do with your Princes. Very well, I will allow you to see them.” He motioned to his guards: “Take the King and his companions to the healing chambers.”

Thorin considered for a moment, his desire to retrieve the Arkenstone at once fighting his longing to see his nephews. _I have time to sort out the Arkenstone business_ , he thought. _I will see Fili and Kili now._ He looked at Bilbo and could sense some of his uneasiness.

It was somewhat dark in the healing chambers. Legolas and Tauriel were at the Princes’ side. When they saw Thorin and his companions, they rose and bowed silently, then Legolas spoke. “Welcome, King Thorin and Company. It gladdens our hearts to see you looking so well. We did not expect the King himself to be traveling so soon. We’ve tried to give the news of your waking to Fili and Kili, but unfortunately they are still unconscious for the time being.”

“Thank you. You have my gratitude for giving them another chance at life. I don’t know how I can ever repay you,” said Thorin, and tears were fighting to inundate his eyes. “My _nadân_ ,” he said as he turned to his nephews. He kneeled beside Fili’s bed and started tracing his hair strands with his fingers. “My beloved Fili, I am here. Your uncle Thorin. Do you hear me? I love you, beyond the depths of the deepest mine. I won’t let you go. We need you here. Your mother…” and the tears came this time.

While Dwalin and Balin kneeled at the side of Kili’s bed, Bilbo stood beside Thorin, listening carefully to his every word. In his raw effort to put into words how much a person meant to him, Thorin reminded him so much of himself. Except Thorin was determined where Bilbo had been hesitant. “They are stable,” said Legolas. “Prince Fili is in the toughest shape. Tauriel was with Prince Kili when he was wounded, and she and I were able to take him to safety fast. But Fili… it took a while to find him. We did not know he was so close, or what went on on Ravenhill before we arrived.”

Thorin moved towards Kili. “Oh, Kili,” he spoke with intensity. “You are so much like your uncle. What you did is what I would have done. I would have gone after my brother. Yet no one should pay with their life for such... such... Certainly not you. If anyone should, it should be me. And yet I stand here before you. So... Wake up, Kili. Wake up so we can be a family again.”

Bilbo kneeled beside Fili, where Thorin had been. He held Fili’s hand and whispered to him: “Your uncle loves you deeply, Fili. Please come back to us.”

Thorin and Bilbo stayed there for a while, as Balin and Dwalin took all their belongings to the resting rooms prepared for them. Dinner was going to be served soon. While Thorin had no interest in it, Bilbo, Balin and Dwalin were eager to partake. Finally, despite his wish to be by his nephews’ side, Thorin decided to join the dinner party as a courtesy to his host. He also decided not to bring up the Arkenstone yet.

“Thorin,” a concerned Balin whispered to him at dinner, not quite softly enough for Thorin’s liking. “Would you like me to entreat Thranduil on the subject of the stone? You’ve been through enough, and this cannot be easy.”

“No, Balin. I must do it. I’ll wait for when the time is right.”

“So, King Thorin, you seem like you’ve made quite the recovery,” Thranduil remarked affably. “Elrond did give us some of his medicine, which we tried on your nephews, but alas, it did no prove as miraculous. May I inquire for details of your healing?”

“I believe it was a power from beyond this world,” said Thorin in a low voice.

“Indeed?” Thranduil’s expression changed for one brief moment. A look of sorrow came upon him. Thorin could see it, and it made him uneasy.

After that Thranduil was silent for a long time. When he spoke again, he eyed Thorin provokingly. “Your youngest nephew… do you know any details of his fighting?”

“He… went up to the tower to avenge his brother,” Thorin answered.

“Ah. To avenge his brother, yet I hear he ended up defending one of my captains,” Thranduil replied with a grin. “I think you’ll find out what I mean soon enough.”

After dinner, Thorin went back to Fili and Kili in the healing room. “I will be with them for the night,” he said to Bilbo. “You will be resting, I hope?”

Bilbo suggested they should take turns watching the two nephews, and asked Thorin to wake him up whenever he wanted to get some rest. As Thorin nodded in agreement, Legolas and Tauriel came in to say good night and announce that they were going to be back in the morning, though Tauriel did not look particularly happy with that prospect. “May I…” – she hesitated – “be permitted to stay?”

“Certainly,” said Thorin. “You are a healer; surely my sister-sons would benefit from your presence.”

“I would not be performing any healing tonight,” she said boldly. “I just want to be by Kili’s side.”

Thorin gave her a long look. He had no idea where this was coming from. “Bilbo? Do you know something of this?” he turned and rumbled, to Bilbo’s amusement. Thorin very rarely called him by his first name; Bilbo thought he had finally worked it out that it was always in situations of high stress for Thorin.

“Umm… Kili spoke of an attachment when he rejoined us in Erebor. An Elf lady by the name of Tauriel. I believe it’s the one standing before us.” Bilbo stepped closer to Thorin and whispered in his ear: “A _close_ attachment.” Then he gazed at him expectantly. _That’s it_. _I assume Kili will never be king after this. So Fili’d better recover soon, or there will be no heirs to the throne of Durin._ Another thought pushed into his mind, about what that would mean for Thorin – possibly he’d have to marry out of obligation to produce heirs, or… his One may make an appearance, perhaps not dead after all, and it would be no obligation at all!

“Mistress Tauriel,” Thorin spoke carefully. “I am glad my nephew had the fortune to receive treatment at your hands. I can only pray that your presence will continue to further his recovery. I would not underestimate the power of love in the process of healing.”

Tauriel smiled in gratitude, while Bilbo watched Thorin in astonishment. Before he could say anything, Thorin continued. “I understand you were with my nephew when he got so horribly wounded. What happened?”

So Tauriel told him how Kili had jumped to her defense, how he fought bravely, how he teared when he thought he’d be parted from her, and how King Thranduil and Lord Legolas arrived and were quick to intervene.

“Thank Mahal. If you don’t mind my asking, when did you and my nephew fall in love?” said Thorin. “If that is the correct choice of words,” he completed solemnly.

“Oh,” she said with a confused look, while Bilbo’s eyes widened even further. _So much for Thorin’s improved manners_. “I… haven’t even had time to work that out. It all happened so fast. One minute I was in the forest fighting spiders, and the next minute he was there, fighting with me and watching me…” She looked at Thorin, unsure. The next part was going to be awkward. “Please, continue,” he said with a serious look. “Then we… escorted you all to the… halls of the Woodland Realm, and… well, Kili and I had a conversation while I was guarding the... cells. He seemed so… _daring_. I mean, he was the one imprisoned and I was free, and yet it felt... like he held a power over me.” She tried to hide a laugh as she went on. “Soon after that you all escaped in barrels, and I watched all of you go down the river, and from that moment I felt… I felt like he took a part of me with him. And that I couldn’t stay here anymore. I had to follow him.”

Thorin nodded to her with much respect. “Tell me more, Mistress Tauriel.”

So Tauriel went on, telling him about how she rebelled against Thranduil’s orders and was banished from his kingdom as a result, how she arrived at Bard’s house and healed Kili (here her face became saddened as she sighed, _I wish he could have stayed healed longer_ ), how Kili gave her a _token_ , something precious to him, accompanied by a Khuzdul word she never learned the meaning of, how she later arrived at Ravenhill to fight with him, _no,_ _to save him_ , how he ended up saving her, and again, how he teared as he looked at her while life threatened to leave his body… “King Thorin,” she said with a mix of sadness and renewed surprise at her own memory, “he seemed like he couldn’t care less about the fact that he was... that he may have been dying. He only cared about the fact that he was parting with me.”

Thorin stared at her, understanding in his eyes, and something more, like a revelation. “I am very grateful that you’re sharing this with me. This token you speak of… did you keep it? Or did you return it to him?”

“I kept it. I had no one to give it back to. If he wants it back… _if_ he wakes up…”

“It is good that you kept it,” said Thorin. “Even if you never saw him again, or could never return his love, he would want you to have it.” He shifted his gaze from Tauriel to Bilbo, who was watching them in complete fascination. “Forever,” he added, and it seemed like he was looking far in the distance, beyond Bilbo and beyond the walls of the healing room.

“This is something I’m struggling with,” she said. “I wish I had said something to indicate to him that I… And now it feels like it may be too late.”

“No!” Bilbo interjected, forgetting himself. “It’s not too late!”

Tauriel gave him a puzzled look. “Hopefully not,” she said with a strained smile. “I just wish I hadn’t second-guessed everything. Though Kili… it’s kind of hard to keep up with him. _Everything_ happened really, really fast. But I _am_ catching up with him,” she closed with satisfaction, her voice still full of wonder.

She waited to see if Thorin had more to inquire of her. He still seemed far away, lost in deep meditation. “I will come back shortly. I have a few things to attend to. It was nice talking to you, King Thorin.” She bowed and left the room.

Finally it was Bilbo’s turn to talk, and he was most eager to do so. “Who are you and what did you do with Thorin Oakenshield?”

“Hmm? Do you have any objections, Master Baggins?” And now Bilbo knew that Thorin was more relaxed. “You’re being nice to an _Elf_?” he said in a scandalized tone. “An Elf who is likely betrothed to your nephew?”

Thorin smiled indulgently. “Let’s talk of more important things, Master Baggins.”

“Oh, right. More important things. What was that you said at dinner, about receiving help from another world? Can you elaborate on that?”

“Not now. There is something I need to do. In the meantime, I believe we had an agreement.” Bilbo motioned in protest, yet Thorin was unmoved. “ _Your rest_ is important. We will talk later. You can stay here if you’d like,” he pointed to the spare beds in the room. “Sleep now, my _khathiz azrâl_.”

Bilbo thought for a moment. That sounded similar to something he had said to Thorin a few nights before… though not quite the same. “Perhaps you’ll tell me what that means, one of these days?” he said playfully, stifling a yawn.

It didn’t look like he was heard, though, as Thorin was back by Fili’s side, kneeling deep in thought. And although Bilbo was very tired and in serious need of recovery, he stayed awake for a while longer, so curious was he to see what it was that Thorin needed to do…

“Fili,” Thorin began, “I need to speak to you.” Then he waited, until he could steady his heartbeat and feel calm enough. “I am sorry for my lack of good judgment. For sending you and your brother into danger. I failed you. There is nothing I can do to change that. But please- I can’t have you leave. The three of us… we belong together.”

He closed his eyes, and the memory of Ravenhill took hold of him.

He sees the tower, and Azog holding Fili through the fog. Azog says something in a voice full of triumph and hatred. Fili says something too, he yells at his uncle to run. And Thorin stands there, helpless, _if you die, I want to die with you_ painted all over his face.

But he didn’t die. Thorin Oakenshield didn’t die.

_How can one live with this guilt?_

_This is not about me._

“Mahal,” he invoked defeatedly as the memory threatened to move deeper within. “Please help them as you helped me, and continue to show me how to make things right.” And he cradled Fili’s head in his hands and wept over him. “I’m so sorry,” and his mind cannot fight the memory. He watches with horror as Fili falls from the tower, and Kili will be next, and he knows that all he has left in this world is to protect him. Kili. Only, he _can’t_ protect him. No, today _everything_ is going wrong.

Now Thorin stood in front of Kili’s bed and leaned over to look at him. “Listen to me, _efsêkheled-ê_ ,” he said affectionately. He continued to look down, yet instead of seeing Kili he saw himself holding his brother’s lifeless body in his arms at Azanulbizar and raging like a caged animal. “You can be reckless when falling in love...” The image immediately changed, and he saw himself gifting Bilbo the mithril, and cringed at the memory for what a fool he was to just stand there and stare at the one he loved without any proper words, or maybe he was a fool for giving him such a gift in the first place. But Kili was no fool; Kili had played his cards much better than he. “...Though even there, Kili, it may be advisable to slow down,” he went on, thinking of Tauriel’s words. “But you are not allowed to be reckless in battle. Not anymore. I will be there this time – _every_ time – to ensure that. Take this,” a shy smile emerged through the tears as he took Kili’s hand in his, “as a promise.”

...As Thorin began chanting in prayer to Mahal, Bilbo drifted off, once again letting the peacefulness of his love’s voice soothe him to sleep. He woke up hours later as he felt Thorin’s hand gently caressing his curls, though it retreated as soon as he opened his eyes. “We can talk now if you still wish it,” Thorin said softly.

“I do wish it, Thorin,” said Bilbo. “You have a lot of explaining to do.”

“I was referring to Lord Mahal and Lady Yavanna when I spoke to Thranduil. Both allowed me to come back. I asked my Maker for a chance to make things right. But Bilbo... no one can know this. It was a sacred gift. Nevertheless, I wanted you to know, in case something happens to me and you won’t see me again. That is where I was, in my Maker’s halls, and I saw Lady Yavanna briefly too, though that was somewhere else. So if I ever…”

“If you ever… what?” Bilbo asked, his voice threatening.

Thorin sighed. He was getting dangerously close to admitting something that he had decided earlier he should keep to himself. “Just know you may be able to make contact with them, somehow. If I was able to, I imagine you could, too. You are far more respectable than I. So if something happens to me, you may ask them how I’m doing. They… they know about you.”

“They _what_? What do you mean?” But now Thorin looked like he would rather face Azog again than produce any more words.

“Thorin, I was expecting you’d be mad at me for the whole Arkenstone thing. That you’d quarrel with Bard and Thranduil some more. Not that I want to give you any ideas! Oh, and that you’d have a problem with Tauriel. Instead you’re totally fine with everything. And now you’re telling me two of the Valar have helped you come back, and apparently you mentioned me to them. It’s all just very… unusual. It would be nice to have an explanation, you know?”

“Just tell him already, Uncle,” a soft mumble was heard suddenly. Kili was awake. So happy were the two at the sight of him that they disregarded his words as well as their own, and rushed to his side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Khuzdul:
> 
> nadân: boys  
> khathiz: eternal  
> azrâl: longing/desire  
> efsêkheled-ê: my mirror
> 
> [www.dwarrowscholar.com](https://www.dwarrowscholar.com)


	10. Forget Your Perfect Offering

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin learns that Thranduil wants to keep the Arkenstone for his own purposes. During their conversation, Thorin also senses that Thranduil has the power to read his thoughts, and is surprised to find out that he can read some of Thranduil’s as well.

“The soft overcomes the hard;

the flexible conquers the stiff;

the immaterial penetrates the solid.

This is why there is great advantage

in stillness and silence

over movement and speaking.

But few ever obtain the advantage,

for few practice stillness and silence.”

( _Tao Te Ching_ )

Thorin woke up in the morning after resting for a few hours. Bilbo had taken over watching Fili and Kili during the night, and was now sleeping, while Tauriel was making the rounds between the two Princes. Seeing her figure overflowing with happiness, Thorin remembered his realizations from the night before. Kili had not waited long at all to court Tauriel properly. As a result, Tauriel was _aware_ of Kili’s love. Kili had less to offer than the great King Under the Mountain, and yet Kili had made impressive strides in a matter of days, while Thorin had had eight months of journeying with Bilbo within easy grasp and was still at square one. With a sigh, Thorin acknowledged to himself that he needed to step up his game and find a way to be more overt in his intentions towards Bilbo.

He recalled a conversation he had overheard during their quest, where Bilbo was telling Bofur about the importance of food in Hobbit courting habits. He started fantasizing about bringing Bilbo breakfast, and wondered if this was the right move if one wanted to court by Shire standards. If it was, he could pretend not to know of it – well, in fact he _didn’t_ know of it. _What was I trying to think_? he wondered, confused by his own reasoning. _That’s right. Breakfast_.

Emboldened, he eagerly went to the dining hall, hoping he could just grab some food and return to the healing room in time to surprise Bilbo whenever he woke up... only to run into Thranduil, whose gaze was fixed on him from the head of the table, the only person in the room.

The two ate in silence for a while. Thorin was pondering how best to address the Arkenstone, when Thranduil broke the ice. “I was glad to hear one of your nephews is awake now. Though I imagine there is more that you are here for than either of them. You have learned that your precious jewel is with me. You wish to retrieve it.”

“I have honored my word to Bard,” said Thorin, reaching into his coat pocket. “Here. I have his message to you.”

_To King Thranduil of the Woodland Realm_

_King Thorin has given the people of Laketown a sizable portion of gold and silver, that is most certainly enough for our present needs. I therefore declare he should retake possession of the heirloom of his House, that your Esteemed Majesty is currently keeping per our agreement in Dale. Please return the Arkenstone to King Thorin upon reading this message._

_With our deepest thanks,_

_Bard of Laketown_

“Well, well… I confess these new developments are not quite what I expected. I am wondering, though… as dear as I know it is to your heart, if I might persuade you to leave the Arkenstone with me,” said Thranduil, sipping his wine with elegant movements.

Thorin choked on his coffee. “Excuse me?”

“I confess I find myself loath to part with it. It is the most beautiful jewel I’ve ever laid eyes on. I’ve been seduced by its beauty; it holds power over my heart now. I’ve come to finally understand your longing for it, O, King Under the Mountain... your blindness to everything else. I’m surprised you didn’t ask for it as soon as you got here.”

“There are other, more beautiful things,” Thorin murmured, suddenly lost in thought, looking at an archway that let sunlight in.

“As it looks like you are no longer in the grip of it, I wonder what I might spare so that you’ll leave it with me for a while longer. You needed it to slay the dragon and reclaim your kingdom. You hardly need it now. You won back the Mountain, and your kin have come to your aid even without it.”

“But it belongs to my people. It will belong to my heir one day. I don’t claim it only for myself, but for the entire line of Durin!”

“I understand its value to your people. And yet… its beauty… its purity… it fits better here, in an Elven realm. I would give you other riches, other treasures, in exchange for it.”

Thorin gave him a threatening stare. Then he cleared his throat. “I’m afraid this is not up for negotiation, unless you wish to blackmail me as we both know you’ve done before.”

“No,” said Thranduil calmly, as if the very idea was below him, and then pinned him with a sharp gaze. “Answer me this one question. How did you come back to life and make such a quick recovery?”

“I cannot. We are a secretive race, and this is something worth keeping a secret. I am sorry to disappoint you. Is there something that ails you?”

“I lost my wife many years ago,” the Elvenking said unexpectedly. “I tried to bring her back many times. I spent years entreating the Valar to return her to me. I never received any response. Yet _you_ … How did you do it?”

Thorin frowned in puzzlement. He couldn’t begin to see where Thranduil was going with this.

“King Thranduil. You had some time with your wife, I assume. A _long_ life. Possibly _several Dwarven lifetimes_ , if you know what I mean. I don’t think you see how lucky you are. You may want to hold on to that, though I grant you, no amount of time spent with the one you love could be enough. Yet you had time to confess your love, get married, have a life together. And you will see her again, unlike some lovers who don’t get the chance to share an afterlife.”

“Ah. You care for the Halfling, I see. It’s touching,” Thranduil observed in passing, his thoughts elsewhere.

Thorin looked at him with doubled menace. He had learned early in life to be wary of others, and was good at concealing his feelings, yet in this moment he had come close to revealing them, to Thranduil, of all people! How could he not notice that? How could he let it happen?

“ _How_ in the world did you get the Valar to allow you to come back?” the Elvenking insisted.

“Perhaps they really wanted to see the Arkenstone back where it belongs… in Erebor,” Thorin said with a smirk.

“And they needed you to come back for that? The easiest thing would have been to let you _die_. Then I’m sure one of us would have returned it to you, placed it in your tomb with some words of remorse and be done with it.”

“Ah, but it’s not easy to part with it, is it?” Thorin bit back. “What difference would a dwarf’s life make?”

“You’re not going to answer my question,” said Thranduil defeatedly. He was now wearing the same sorrowful look that Thorin had spotted earlier. “Then I have no choice but to keep the Arkenstone for now. I feel that there is more to it than meets the eye. It is far too precious to be just a stone, and the way I feel when I’m around it... it whispers to me to take a chance. I need to see if I can use its enchantment. If I can figure out how to unlock its power, it may help bring _her_ back...” Thranduil closed his eyes, a dreamy state settling over him.

 _So that’s what this is all about_ , Thorin thought bitterly. _Mahal help me_. For all his spite, a strange feeling moved inside him, which he needed a moment to recognize: a small measure of pity. He was beginning to see that he, Thorin, hopelessly in love with a hobbit whom he had wronged terribly, and whom he had almost lost forever, was at an advantage when it came to love. He had some hope, to be with Bilbo at some point or at least to be _around_ him, while they were both alive. Thranduil had no more hope; at least, not in this lifetime. Yet it felt strange to feel _pity_ for Thranduil, of all things, and Thorin pushed the feeling away with a scowl.

He then thought of Bilbo and his ring. He had but to ask, and Bilbo would put it on, find the Arkenstone, and steal it back for Thorin. Although he did not exactly like this idea, the thought of Bilbo warmed Thorin’s heart so completely that he forgot about the Arkenstone for a moment.

Thranduil looked intrigued by his silence. Then Thorin spoke. “I do not wish to continue this conversation at the present moment. One of my nephews lies unconscious still. I hope for things to improve for him, and then perhaps I can talk to you again, with a clearer mind.”

“Would you use the Arkenstone? If all else fails? To help Fili regain consciousness?”

Thorin continued to gaze absently at the archway infused with the color of sunshine. “I would not make such a decision alone,” he said. “I’m a warrior. I know nothing of magic. I would need someone to counsel me.”

“The Halfling? Is that who you would ask for counsel? Well then perhaps _I_ will ask him!” Thranduil shouted. His demeanor became cold, and a threatening look of greed and jealousy descended upon his face. And now Thorin was no longer calm and collected, as uncertainty and insecurity pushed in. He had always felt a _certain_ kind of betrayal at the thought that Bard and Thranduil had the Arkenstone, _his_ possession, and that Bilbo had been the one to offer it to them. Yet he knew that the betrayal that cut deeper was simply that Bilbo seemed, from the moment that Thorin had banished him from the Company, to belong _with them_. With Thranduil, in particular. Bilbo already liked Elves and many things Elvish; Thorin felt sure that nothing seemed more natural to him than to seek refuge with the Elven camp. With the person who had laid an army on his doorstep, the same person who had kept a king and his Company imprisoned against any laws of dignity. The person who had refused to offer help during…

 _Don’t go there_. Thorin shook with fear at what this memory could bring. It sounded almost like Thranduil could tap into some of his thoughts… did he have that power? More importantly, did he have something to offer Bilbo that would make his company preferable?

Thorin was now standing, and as Thranduil moved closer to him, it did feel like Thranduil could sense some of his fears. But what Thorin did not expect was that he himself was now able to read Thranduil’s thoughts. Before he could react, Thorin suddenly thought of Bilbo being offered a nice warm bed, an armchair, Elvish books, music, relaxing company, a garden, sunshine… and he realized that Thranduil was having this very thought at this very moment. He was thinking of offering all of this to Bilbo, in exchange for his presence and counsel, for his ability to spy unseen... for his... his _loyalty_.

Thorin felt his forehead sweating as anger started bubbling inside him. The possessiveness, the jealousy, the incredible insecurity he had felt so many times on the subject of Bilbo Baggins, the complete unwillingness to share him with anyone, all of it was back, and Thorin found himself unable to push any of it away. He realized why he hadn’t wanted Bilbo to come to Mirkwood with him. It wasn’t because Bilbo needed rest in order to heal. It was because he didn’t want him anywhere near Thranduil, near Elves in general. He felt his mind darken, while Thranduil stood there and studied him, looking both curious and pleased with himself. _Mahal_ , Thorin called. _You were right to ask me if this is worth it_.

Mahal may have been listening, for the very next minute Thorin’s mind changed, and he thought of Bilbo’s words, _I belong with your Company_. He chose not to dwell on Bilbo’s later _I belong where you are_ , for there was some insecurity in that too, that maybe he had taken Bilbo’s meaning too far, and stood to lose a lot if he believed there was love in those words; and Thorin did not want Thranduil to sense that insecurity. So instead he focused on Bilbo’s evident love for the Company, the twelve loyal dwarves who had followed him into many perils and seen him through the end of the quest, and whom Bilbo had risked his friendship with Thorin for. _My Company is in Erebor, and Bilbo is part of it. There is no such Company in your realm, Woodland King, nor will there ever be_ , he thought with newfound confidence, hoping that, if Thranduil really was reading his thoughts, _this_ was what he would find.

Thranduil gazed at him with knowing satisfaction. “Still, I can ask him,” he said softly, and Thorin perceived the obscurity of his words, _ask him for counsel or ask him to stay in Mirkwood?_ , and that Thranduil knew that such obscurity was the last hammer blow that was going to break him...

Thorin felt the anger begin to take him over. He tried to steady himself, _**ATKÂT!**_ roaring in his heart, but the anger was roaring louder. He made as if to reach for Orcrist, which (perhaps fortunately) was nowhere within his grasp. _Bilbo_ , his mind called helplessly. _I need you. Now_. But Bilbo wasn’t there. Bilbo was probably still sleeping. And when Bilbo wasn’t with him, Thorin knew he was prone to making mistakes. Just like when he mounted on Ravenhill. When he sent Fili and Kili to scout the tower. When he fought Azog on the ice. _Yet you always came to my rescue, just as I would always come to yours_. _I need rescue_ now _. There’s nowhere to hide from the claws of this..._

Thranduil continued to stare at him silently, and Thorin realized that the Elvenking was reading his thoughts in real time, as they were being formed in his mind. So full of power was he, _and indelicate, you would call him_ , Thorin thought to Bilbo with a somber smile. What would Bilbo say if he were present? Clearly, a Dwarvish insult was probably not going to cut it; it would only further upset this formidable enemy!

It was at this moment that it dawned on Thorin that he could try to think in Khuzdul. Then Thranduil won’t know what he was thinking! He could try to call to Bilbo, he could try to still himself. _Quickly_ , he thought, _milmal-_ _’erekhmi astu. Kunh i’ti astu, markhulkhud_?...

* * *

...Bilbo slept, and in his dream he thought he heard Thorin calling out to him repeatedly. For the first few times, it felt like Thorin’s words were being intercepted and couldn’t reach him. Then Thorin called out to him in Khuzdul, and this time Bilbo heard him perfectly. Only, he once again didn’t know what the word meant. _Markhulkhud_. It was not in the love section he had found in the little dictionary, nor did it ring a bell as a friend term. Part of it was in the battle section, if he recalled correctly. _Shield_ , he thought it meant. _Shield something_. He smiled through the dream. _I like that, I would very much like to be just that for you, Thorin, if you’ll let me_. Yet Thorin continued to call to him with urgency, and now Bilbo knew he needed help and wanted to be by his side. He found himself standing in an archway that let sunlight in, and saw Thorin and Thranduil having a confrontation, the silence between them cutting like a knife. Bilbo put his ring on, and wondered how he could reach Thorin, who was standing, his tense back turned to him. _Your shadow gives you away, Halfling_ , he thought he heard Thranduil speak. _I’m here for Thorin_ , he replied, feeling a surge of courage, _I would give_ myself _away for him_...

As soon as he said that, he saw his shadow morph into an oak leaf of bright green. _Thorin_ , he whispered. _Thorin,_ _I’m here. Look at me_. Yet Thorin did not turn, and Bilbo knew that he had to address him in Khuzdul, as that was how Thorin had called out to him. And he had a choice between love terms and friendship terms, and didn’t know which to choose. So instead he just looked at what he felt in that moment, and what he felt was _courage_ , an abundance of it. He remembered this word too belonged in the battle section of the blue notebook. It was the perfect word for Thorin, _the one who showed me what real courage is, no, not just showed me, he_ gave _it to me. Zangel_ , he called out to Thorin, overwhelmed with the truth of it all. In the next moment Thorin turned towards the archway and saw the green oak leaf, and he started walking towards it, his demeanor now relaxed. Then the leaf turned black, and turned into smoke as if scorched. Bilbo shivered, and instantly reached for his ring. He took it off, and the smoke gave way to light, and he woke up in that moment, looking in distress at his clutching hands...

* * *

 _...Zangel_ , Thorin heard, and as he turned towards the sound he saw an oak leaf of bright green. He thought about the fact that it was the middle of winter, and leaves of such beautiful green could not just be lying around. And he gazed at it with eyes full of wonder, searching for his love in that green that reminded him of the tree in the Erebor he had dreamed of, the tree that he would have wanted to grow for Bilbo, if only he would stay... And he understood what that leaf meant, and his anger melted into something else, something that Bilbo was giving him just now, something that Thorin had only very little of... that he should not have dismissed. And he forgot about his urge to reach for Orcrist and moved towards the archway to reach for the oak leaf instead, _a part of me_ , he smiled in relief, _a part of me that is_ him. Yet as he leaned down to touch it, the leaf turned to black smoke, and the smoke vanished, and Thorin sensed a darkness threatening to take over his love, and wanted nothing more than to rush to find him...

“Feel free to ask Master Baggins for counsel,” he said to Thranduil, satisfied to hear his voice go back to neutral. “Now if you would excuse me, I must attend to my nephews.” He turned away, exiting the room through the archway, and marveled to see it now filled with glorious light.

“The birds they sang

At the break of day

Start again

I heard them say

Don’t dwell

On what has passed away

Or what is yet to be

Yeah the wars

they will be fought again

The holy dove

She will be caught again

Bought and sold

And bought again

The dove is never free

Ring the bells that still can ring

Forget your perfect offering

There is a crack, a crack, in everything

That’s how the light gets in”

(Leonard Cohen, _Anthem_ )

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Khuzdul:
> 
> atkât: silence  
> milmal: quickly  
> ’erekhmi astu: I need you  
> kunh i’ti astu: where are you  
> markhulkhud: shield of light  
> zangel: courage of all courage
> 
> [www.dwarrowscholar.com](https://www.dwarrowscholar.com)


	11. Tempest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin tries to express his feelings for Bilbo in a number of ways, not all of which are successful. Thranduil attempts to persuade Bilbo to stay in Mirkwood. His interactions with both kings leave Bilbo very confused.

_Bilbo, here in the Woodland Realm_ , Thorin thought as he made his way back to the healing room. Bilbo who had said _I belong where you are_. But he had lied to Thorin before, had he not? He had deceived him! Thorin began to see that Thranduil had sown doubt into his mind. It was bad enough that the Elvenking had the Arkenstone; he just had to hint at something else he might take from Thorin. How long before he and the hobbit fell out again? How long before Bilbo switched sides?

 _He may switch sides anyway, even without us having a fight_ , he thought. _This_ was what he was worried about, that no matter how hard he’d try to regain Bilbo’s respect and hope to secure his love in time, the hobbit would still be drawn to a different world. He also did not feel that he could ever really hope to have his love returned. He had not forgotten how much he’d wronged Bilbo, and for Dwarves forgiveness was not easy to grant. As he felt that Bilbo was slipping through his fingers again, Thorin once more was overcome with pain and regret.

Yet he couldn’t stay long in those thoughts. There was much to do. Fili. The Arkenstone.

 _The Arkenstone_.

As soon as he entered the healing room, all dark thoughts vanished. He glanced at his nephews, content to see both in Legolas and Tauriel’s capable hands. Kili’s bed was now moved immediately next to Fili’s, and Kili was holding his brother’s hand fiercely. Thorin gave a hasty nod to Legolas and Tauriel and rushed to Bilbo’s bed. Without a word, he sat by him and wrapped him in his arms.

“Thorin?” asked Bilbo tentatively. “Where have you been?”

“You’re all right,” said Thorin with relief. “I felt… I was worried about you.”

“I’m all right _now_ ,” Bilbo said, smiling. “I meant to tell you... I had a dream. You were calling to me.” Then he pulled away for a moment and looked into Thorin’s eyes. “Did you, Thorin? Did you call to me while you were with Thranduil? I can’t tell if any of it was real.”

“I did,” said Thorin, pulling him back into the hug and tightening his grip around him. “And I believe you heard me. I felt your presence there.”

“Don’t you find that strange? That I can reach you while I’m dreaming?”

“I would find it stranger if you couldn’t,” Thorin murmured, closing his eyes and breathing in the air in his love’s space. He contemplated saying more. _There was some evil around you, too_. Yet he didn’t want to cause Bilbo to worry, not now of all moments. As he continued to hold Bilbo in his arms, peace settled over him. He thought of Thranduil and the Arkenstone, and for the first time really understood that the stone did not have power over him anymore. Something else, someone much more precious had complete hold of his heart. And he _wanted_ to say this to Bilbo, that he was precious beyond measure to him. “My _Rakl’aban_ ,” he heard the word come out... It sounded soft and beautiful, and perfect for its new meaning.

“Hold on,” Bilbo said. “Don’t tell me what it means. I ought to know this one. Stone something. Ah, never mind,” he changed, suddenly remembering he was not supposed to know any Khuzdul. “I don’t know what that means.”

“It means _my Arkenstone_.” As Thorin spoke, he realized this, for all his good intentions, may not have been the best name to call his beloved. And right he was, for Bilbo pulled away immediately with a raised and very confused eyebrow.

“Oh. Did you ask Thranduil about it?”

Thorin sighed heavily and buried his head in his hands, wishing he could just sink into the floor. “He won’t return it to me. He wants it for himself.”

Bilbo’s eyes widened with shock, fear and something more. “No,” he said. “It cannot be.”

Thorin was silent. As he took in the reality of his blunder, he now saw it was not the only way he was failing in his courting quest in one single morning. Distracted as he had been by Thranduil’s conversation, he hadn’t had a chance to get food for Bilbo. “Master Baggins, allow me to get you some breakfast,” he said. His voice was filled with hesitation, yet with renewed courage and determination he got up and left the room abruptly. He was going to find breakfast for Bilbo, whatever it took, _if only to keep him from visiting that accursed dining hall and run into Thranduil_. He returned in triumph a few minutes later, carrying a tray with fruit, cake and tea.

“Oh goodness, Thorin, you are a king, you should not be serving me,” said Bilbo, though the joy in his eyes at the sight of the food and the person offering it spoke differently.

“I want to,” said Thorin, looking at Bilbo fondly. “I’m glad you’re here with me, Master Baggins.”

“Me too, Thorin. I would not be anywhere else.”

“Is that really true?”

Bilbo laughed. “Thank you for bringing breakfast. That’s very considerate of you.” He began eating immediately.

 _I guess breakfast doesn’t really count as_ _a_ _courting_ _tactic_ _for Hobbits_ , Thorin thought. _There must be some other daily hobbit meal I need to target_. Yet he had more pressing things to deal with. “Bilbo,” he began. “How do you like it here in Mirkwood?”

“Hmm? I haven’t really had time to look around. It’s not quite the place for me. I very much prefer Rivendell.”

Thorin bit his lip hard. This wasn’t easy. “What if you were invited to stay here? What would you say?”

“Invited? By whom?”

“By this elf king, who else? He seems to entertain the idea that you might be of some use to him.”

“Surely you wouldn’t like me to… Thorin, where is this coming from?”

“Answer me. What would you do if you received such an invitation?”

“It depends. Would you be staying too?”

“No. I would stay only to see Fili and Kili recovered. Then I’d return to my duties in Erebor.”

“Then I wouldn’t stay either. I would go with you.”

“Is it that simple, Master Baggins?”

“Yes, it is. That simple.”

They stared at each other. Bilbo tried to smile. “Thorin… Let me talk to Thranduil. About the Arkenstone.”

“No!” Thorin did not mean to shout.

“Then what would you have me do?”

“I won’t _have_ _you do_ anything. I don’t control you.”

Bilbo eyed him with much confusion. Perhaps if he had known the challenges his meeting with Thranduil brought to Thorin’s mind, he would have reached some understanding. As it stood, though, he knew nothing of what had transpired between the two kings at breakfast. If all he thought was that Thorin was downright angry about the Arkenstone business, no one could fault him.

But Thorin’s mind was differently engaged. This was not going well, that much was clear, _and it’s all that smug_ _e_ _lf’s fault_ , he thought, feeling caught in a loop of Thranduil’s words. The Elvenking had suggested that he could ask Bilbo for counsel on the matter of using the Arkenstone to bring his wife back. And Thranduil had _thought_ of offering Bilbo a place to stay in his Woodland Realm; at least, that was what Thorin had sensed upon Thranduil moving close to him.

 _He’ll take Bilbo from me_ , he thought. _He’ll take him unless I do something. But I don’t know what to do._

This was true, if anything was. Thorin was not the keenest blade for an axe in love matters. He _thought_ he’d shown how much Bilbo meant to him. He had held him in his arms repeatedly and had pressed their foreheads together, gestures that, for the excessively private Dwarves, were reserved exclusively for family and lovers. He had gifted Bilbo the mithril shirt, the second most valuable object in his kingdom and the _most_ valuable that he had had access to at the time. Granted, this had been just the beginning, as Thorin had planned to give Bilbo many more tokens of his affection whenever the time presented itself. However, what he _had_ given was already pretty telling of his intentions!

And yet the things he had done didn’t seem to move the hobbit much. What if Thranduil came up with something better – admittedly not for the purpose of winning Bilbo’s heart, but his loyalty, his allegiance, which was equally troublesome? Something that would be enough for Bilbo to remain in Mirkwood?

Thorin pondered for a minute. The biggest source of his insecurity was the moment when he had grabbed Bilbo by the collar and almost threw him from the rampart. He believed he wouldn’t have actually done so – it had been a moment of blind fury, just one moment, and then his love for the Halfling took over and he released him – but it had been no doubt enough to cement Bilbo’s opinion of him. Despite the words of forgiveness exchanged between them, he could not expect Bilbo to overlook that; while Thranduil, whatever one might say, had not shown this level of anger. _Quite the contrary, for all the wine that he drinks, his capacity for restraint is impressive_ , Thorin thought spitefully.

So Thorin decided to talk about the sickness he had been under before the Battle of the Five Armies, and hoped that Bilbo would see him in a better light.

Bilbo had finished eating when Thorin started talking. “There are things I need to tell you. About… my desire for gold. And for the Arkenstone. And for…” He stopped suddenly. Bilbo felt a rush of panic, and immediately shook his head as if this wasn’t needed at all, _I know, Thorin, you don’t need to go there_. “My mind changed when I entered the Mountain,” Thorin continued unperturbed. “It became wrapped in that gold. I couldn’t see anything else. I wanted it all. I didn’t want to share it with anyone, though I could have given some to Bard to rebuild his town, in time... under better circumstances. And I became obsessed with the Arkenstone, as you know.” He stopped again and looked down, clenching his fists and wishing for this memory to be different, _different_...

Bilbo placed a hand on one of his fists, touching lightly, and Thorin continued. “I know you tried to rescue me. Your company always made me feel lighter. Happier. But I couldn’t be reached. I was too far gone. Then you showed me that acorn you were holding. When I heard you talk of going home to the Shire and planting it, I was the happiest I’d been in a long time.” _And the saddest_ _, when you clarified_ where _you wanted to plant it_. “All I wanted was to make sure you’d be able to do that as soon and as safely as possible. I wanted you to survive the battle. And yet, when you presented me with the opportunity to avoid battle altogether, I chose it anyway. I put you in danger, directly, _and_ threatened to take your life. Bilbo, I cannot fathom how you are still here, after all this.”

Thorin thought this was going rather well. This could not be wrong. He was off to a good start in expressing his feelings.

“I can,” said Bilbo. “Thorin, we’ve already talked about this.”

“But I will say that I really meant it when I told you, go back to your books and your armchair… I want you to be happy, and free. Free of this, whatever this adventure has become. I will not keep you in Erebor against your will.”

“Well, you regret those things you did to me, right?” said Bilbo.

“Of course. I told you, if I can help it, you will never see me like that again.”

“What if I were to tell you that I _don’t_ want to go home? That I want to stay, at least for now?”

“Stay in Erebor?”

“Yes. Stay in Erebor.” Bilbo searched his eyes. “Assuming I’m welcome, of course.”

“Is this because I almost died and you’re worried about me? If it is... you need not worry.”

“It is not. The fact that you nearly died made me realize some things. I don’t see myself going home. Not now.”

Thorin raised his head and looked at Bilbo as if he saw him for the first time. “What did you realize?”

But Bilbo wasn’t going to say any more. The Took was done for the day, at least in the matters of love. Which was perhaps good, because in the next moment two things happened at the same time: the door opened and an elf peeked in the room and addressed Bilbo, “King Thranduil requests your presence, if you are not otherwise occupied,” and Fili stirred for the first time. Bilbo looked at Thorin with caution, as if anticipating his disapproval. Thorin grunted, let out a foul string of Khuzdul, then he squeezed Bilbo’s hand tightly and released it. “You can go if you wish,” he said. “I must attend to Fili.”

Bilbo looked at the elf, then at Fili, then thought for a moment. “Thorin,” he whispered reassuringly. “I will go and talk to the Elvenking. It’s only polite. I'll be back as soon as I can.”

He walked out of the healing chamber, his mind spinning. A lot had happened in the last few days. He gave the Arkenstone to Bard and Thranduil. He parted ways with the Company of dwarves, and rejoined Gandalf. He watched the Battle of the Five Armies, and saw how Thorin eventually charged into battle with his loyal twelve. He watched Fili fall on Ravenhill, followed by Thorin after his defeat of Azog. He heard him say _farewell_ to him. He fought desperately to bring him back. And after some days had passed, Thorin did come back.

And now they were here, in Mirkwood, and Thranduil had the Arkenstone, and would not give it back to Thorin. Strangely, this part almost brought relief to Bilbo. He had been worried about Thorin retrieving the Arkenstone. All he knew was that before the stone really entered the picture, he and Thorin had had a good thing going, and that Thorin’s desire for it seemed to have really messed with the dwarf’s mind. Yet he also knew how much the Arkenstone meant to Thorin, how much he hated Thranduil, and that he, Bilbo, had given it away. He couldn’t deny the feeling of hope growing in his heart, though. The Arkenstone was trouble; _better it should stay with Thranduil_ , he resolved himself with a stubborn frown.

But that was not all that Bilbo still needed to process. Sometime during those days, he had told Thorin he loved him. Granted, Thorin couldn’t hear him... or could he? _He didn’t seem surprised I could reach him from my dream earlier_. And it was sometime during those days that Bilbo felt something so strong, so genuine for Thorin, stronger than anything he’d ever felt before. He hadn’t known if it really was love. And he didn’t know how Thorin felt about him. Thorin, whom he had hurt and betrayed...

There was a lot of confusion to be felt, for sure. Yet Thorin had held him in his arms with so much warmth, offered him so much comfort, and it was clear he cared about his happiness! There was a lot to be hopeful for, though Thorin had not said anything about love. True, there was the breakfast he had just brought him. _A courting tradition by Shire standards, but surely Thorin doesn’t know that_ , Bilbo thought dismissively. _He probably just did it out of friendship_. And then there was the talk they had just had. It sounded like Thorin wouldn’t have minded if Bilbo had gone back to the Shire. If he wanted to be with Bilbo, that would probably be the last thing he would say to him...

Did he, Bilbo Baggins, want to fall in love? _I’d never thought I’d fall in love until after I met you, Thorin_ , he mused. _I’d have been comfortable living without it._ But falling in love was one thing, and falling in love _with Thorin_ was another. Did he want to fall in love with Thorin? _I don’t want to if you don’t_ , he spoke to the person of his dreams, yet even those words that built a wall around himself he spoke with love, so much love that... _I guess it_ _’_ _s too late for that thought_.

“The King’s Halfling,” Thranduil said with a smirk as he stood up from his throne, and at once Bilbo felt that he was being held under close scrutiny. “A puzzling little thing. A pity that he couldn’t see your true worth. But perhaps there are some who can.”

“King Thranduil,” Bilbo bowed hesitantly. “I have good news. Prince Fili woke up just a few minutes ago. I trust that we should not trespass on your kindness much longer. I’m sorry, what did you say?”

Thranduil continued to study him. “Essentially, that it’s a pity that King Thorin chose the Arkenstone over you. I myself feel you are worth more, incomparably more than a shiny trinket. But to each his own. Anyway, all is well that ends well, right?”

“Thorin was sick! If you ask him now, anyone in his Company is worth more than the Arkenstone!”

“Perhaps,” Thranduil allowed gracefully, “though that still means that he can bend one way or the other, in a most unpredictable and,” he made as if to hide his disgust, “unpleasant manner. Tell me, Halfling, what do I have to do in order to keep you here, as part of my kingdom? Is there anything you would like? What is the Arkenstone of your desire? You have but to name it.”

“My home is in the Shire,” Bilbo answered. That technically wasn’t true anymore, but he wasn’t going to share that with Thranduil. “I thank you, but I fail to see what use I would be here anyway.”

“You would be of use to _me_. Word has spread of your intelligence and cunning, of the great spirit you showed during the dwarves’ quest. What you did for your friends, and for a king who could not see beyond his own desire… It did not escape my notice.”

“Oh. No… See, a lot of those times I was just lucky, that’s all.”

“Mmm. Yes, I believe you were. Lucky, or you must have had some _help_ ,” Thranduil nodded at him knowingly. "I wonder…” Yet he didn’t press. “I would still like to know what you desire most.”

“Well, for a while I thought I really desired to go on an adventure. Then one night it knocked on my door! While I was on the road with Gandalf and the dwarves, there were many times I only wished to be back home, with my books and my armchair.” _Then Thorin died – no, he almost died, and I wished for nothing more than for him to live – and after that… after that… I’m too tired to wish for anything anymore._ He didn’t mean to have that last thought, and wondered curiously where it had come from. And he noticed that though he didn’t say some of these words out loud, it felt like Thranduil knew about them too. “Well, the bottom line is, we don’t always know what to wish for,” he closed. “And I’m certainly not sure what to wish for at this moment.”

“I see. So you will follow King Thorin into the Mountain? Is that your plan?”

Bilbo felt a pang of fear. Of course he’d planned on following Thorin _anywhere_ , but there was something in the way the Elvenking spoke that reminded him of the unpleasant voice’s words he had heard in his dreams. He resolved not to dwell on that though, and as he didn’t like the idea of Thranduil being right or knowing so much, he opted for a half-truth. “My plan is to return to the Shire, as soon as the weather gets better and the roads are fit for travel. Until then, yes, I’m probably going to stay in Erebor.”

“And has the King Under the Mountain attempted to persuade you to stay… longer?”

 _No, as a matter of fact he doesn’t seem to mind if I leave!_ As Bilbo’s mind struggled in frustration, he felt he was no longer in unison with Thorin. Something of what they had had before this meeting, the connection he had felt during his dream... was breaking. “No,” he answered. “He said I could go as I wish.”

“Very well, little Halfling. Here is what I propose. As you may know, I have his precious Arkenstone. I wasn’t planning on giving it back to him, but I will do so if you remain here until the spring, or whenever you decide to return to the Shire.”

“What?! The Arkenstone is his birthright! You have no right to it!”

“Well, it’s not like I _stole_ it from him,” Thranduil smirked with malicious generosity, clearly enjoying Bilbo’s horrified look. “It simply came to me. But I understand the King’s love and longing for it. So I am prepared to let it go, in exchange for you, seeing as how this won’t bother him.”

Bilbo slapped himself on the face, bewildered. _Perhaps I am dreaming still_ , he thought, _though this is too weird even for a dream_. “Why would you part with the Arkenstone when just a few minutes ago you wanted it for yourself?”

“Because now that I finally get to see you, meet you... I perceive you are of greater value,” Thranduil replied. “Even magical, perhaps. My kingdom needs more magical things.”

“Have you asked Thorin about this? Oh, never mind, I don’t know why I ask! This is preposterous!”

“Well, he said he won’t keep you by force, right? You can go as you wish. And it does seem as if you could use some rest and healing. We would provide that during your stay here, I assure you.”

“But I don’t wish to stay here!”

“Oh? And why not?”

Bilbo was silent. _Because I want to be with_ him, he thought, unaware that he was making it easy for Thranduil to penetrate his thoughts as he had done with some of Thorin’s earlier. _Though now it doesn’t feel like the right thing to do anymore; not at the cost of the Arkenstone; not if I’m betraying_ him _again. Yet staying here I’d be betraying... someone else. Or both of us_ , he added after some more thinking.

“I assume you want to go to Erebor because you think the dwarves are your only friends. But you have friends here too, don’t you know that?” And now Thranduil’s expression was soft and seductive, his voice like velvet, and Bilbo felt enchanted and tipsy for a moment. “Let me… let me talk to Thorin,” he said with some effort. A sudden wave of relaxation came over him, and he wanted nothing more than to lie down on a couch and stare at a window with a glass of wine in hand.

As he struggled to focus, he realized that he and Thranduil had been moving for a while. They were now outside, walking toward the forest, and the Elvenking was leading him to a secluded area. “I want to show you something,” he said to Bilbo, pointing to a space that held some withered plants and scattered trees on what looked like barren soil. A circular stone structure rested in the middle of that place. “This used to be a garden back when we…” Thranduil paused with some difficulty and sighed heavily. “Now everything is faded. But I will make this garden grow once more, and offer it to you. If you should decide to stay in my kingdom, I anticipate a garden will bring you much pleasure.”

“Oh,” Bilbo said, his voice a mix between perplexed and very, very skeptical. “I hate to ask, but how are you going to grow a garden in winter? Especially since nothing seems to be growing around here.” _That was uncalled for. What did you say that for, Bilbo Baggins_?

Thranduil laughed, this time a genuine laugh, and for the first time Bilbo saw his open-heartedness, and it reminded him of some rare occasions when Thorin had laughed in a similar manner at something he’d said. _This time I made a blunder though_ , he thought with amusement, happy that his mind returned to Thorin. _Your bad manners must be rubbing off on me_.

“How indeed,” the Elvenking echoed mysteriously. And as they walked through the forest in silence, Bilbo’s mind started spinning again, and he wondered how something so simple like the attempt to prevent a war and save the lives of friends could ever become so twisted. Or how something so disturbing he had witnessed, been a part of and thought was over, could be happening all over again.

"There is a darkness

A heaviness that is concealed

Inside these boundaries

Inside a plain of frozen fields

There are no weapons

No sharpened blows to be sustained

No, only malice

And the tapping of the rain

But there’s a dream I keep

In a world so dark and deep

The one true paradox

I’m terrified to meet

There’s a dream I keep

I go in when I sleep

There’s nothing they can do

No one will keep me from the heart of you”

Anna Calvi, _The Heart of You_

(written by Andrew Wyatt)


	12. And The Forest is So Black and Empty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo and Thorin talk about the latest developments and continue to deepen their special bond. Thranduil opens up to Bilbo about his wife’s death and asks for advice on how to deal with his pain. Then he reveals a surprise that renders Bilbo speechless.  
> While this chapter is written from Bilbo’s POV, I also wanted to show some love to Thranduil with one rare and beautiful song that has the power to express the depth of his sorrow: a unique song for a unique character :)

“Ich werde in die Tannen gehen

Dahin wo ich sie zuletzt gesehn

Doch der Abend werft ein Tuch aufs Land

Und auf die Wege hinterm Waldersrand

Und der Wald er steht so schwarz und leer

Weh mir oh weh, und die Vögel singen nicht mehr

Ohne dich kann ich nicht sein, ohne dich

Mit dir bin ich auch allein, ohne dich

Ohne dich zähl ich die Stunden, ohne dich

Mit dir stehen die Sekunden, Lohnen nicht

Auf den Ästen in den Gräben

Ist es nun still und ohne Leben

Und das Atmen fällt mich ach so schwer

Weh mir oh weh, und die Vögel singen nicht mehr”

(Rammstein, _Ohne Dich_ )

Bilbo walked slowly, unsure if he could hold himself steady. He reached the healing chamber and entered, his vision blurred as his eyes searched for the one person he needed to see. Thorin was sitting beside a sleeping Fili, Tauriel and Legolas administering to both his nephews. As Bilbo approached them, Thorin stood and rushed towards him.

“He was awake for a few minutes,” said Thorin, pointing to Fili. “We talked to him for a bit. He knows we all survived and saw his brother by his side. He gave us a smile and said he needed sleep. Bilbo, you’re shaking…”

“Oh, Thorin,” Bilbo said, letting out a sigh of relief, yet the effort was palpable in his voice. “This is great progress. I am so glad to hear of it.”

“Bilbo, are you cold? What is the matter?”

“Nothing. It’s… Can we talk somewhere private?”

Thorin reached for a nearby bed and picked up a blanket. Then he led Bilbo out of the room and outside the halls. They crossed the bridge and stopped at the entrance to the forest. Thorin wrapped the blanket around Bilbo’s back and placed his hands on his shoulders to hold it in place, and Bilbo felt his presence steady him. They sat down at the bottom of a tree, facing each other. Then Thorin asked, “What is the matter?”

“Thranduil wants me to stay here, in his kingdom. He said he’d give you back the Arkenstone in exchange for me.”

Thorin’s hands trembled, yet his posture didn’t change, and the look on his face grew fierce. “Never,” he said. Then he looked a bit taken off guard. “Unless... you wish to stay here.”

Bilbo shook his head. “I don’t!”

“Bilbo, you don’t look well. What did this weed-eater do to you?”

“It’s too much. All of this is too much. I hate how he’s blackmailing you. And we never have time to talk about anything. Like how this is all my fault.” He looked down in defeat. “I shouldn’t be burdening you with this; there’s Fili and Kili to worry about. I’m sorry, I just…”

“There will be time to talk. Actually…” Thorin paused as if mind-blown by his own thoughts. “Anything. We can talk now. Tell me what’s on your mind.”

“I’m scared,” Bilbo said. “I don’t know what’s going to happen. And I haven’t been feeling well since we got here. I’m still glad I came to Mirkwood with you, but I did not expect to feel so… worn out. Perhaps it’s the effect of this accursed forest, or its strange owner. He’s so unpredictable! I was walking with him earlier, my head was spinning like something unnatural. Something just doesn’t feel right.”

“You seem troubled by this Arkenstone business,” said Thorin tentatively, his voice lowering as he pronounced a certain word.

“How can I not be? I gave it to them. I had no idea it would wind up with Thranduil. How am I going to sort out this mess? The Arkenstone belongs with you.” _Yet I worry about that too_. “If I stay here, he’ll give it back to you. So maybe I should, shouldn’t I? It would... fix things,” he said hesitantly.

“Bilbo, look at me,” Thorin said, cupping Bilbo’s cheek with one hand and gently lifting his head up. “You do not need to _fix_ anything. You are not responsible for this. You did what you thought to be right at the time. Don’t carry the burden of this wretched elf’s misdeeds.”

“But I would help you!” said Bilbo passionately, his body still shaking. "Me staying here would lead the Arkenstone back to you.” Thorin looked unmoved. Then Bilbo pondered thoughtfully, “You know, I don’t even understand why he wants me here.”

“I could think of a few reasons,” said Thorin with an all-knowing smirk. “Despite my efforts to hide my thoughts from him, he saw how highly I value you. He wants to one-up me, to prove that he is better than me... It wouldn’t be the first time,” he scoffed. “Or...”

Bilbo eyed him with curiosity. It looked like now Thorin was hiding something from _him_. “Or he’s just messing with both of our minds,” Thorin continued hastily. “Maybe he’s not serious. Maybe seeing our reactions amuses him, or he simply switches from one thing to another randomly. This is not the first time he appears to be bending one way or another on a whim.”

Bilbo frowned. _That’s what Thranduil said to me about you! Wow,_ _I can_ _’_ _t believe_ _these guys_ _._

“But Thorin…” he struggled, hating that he had to ask this, but it meant doing the right thing, did it not? “Don’t you want to get the Arkenstone back? This would be a chance for me to redeem myself.”

Thorin laughed softly. “Ideally, yes, I would have it back. But not like this.”

Bilbo’s frown intensified before it gave way to a playful smile. “Perhaps I should have stayed in Dale as you asked me to. It serves me right to disobey you, King Under the Mountain. I’ll have you know I don’t like this situation at all!”

“ _I_ don’t terribly mind it,” Thorin said calmly.

“You don’t mind... what? This Thranduil situation, or that I disobeyed you?”

“I don’t mind this situation. It is a chance for _me_ to redeem _my_ self,” Thorin echoed. “As for you disobeying me...” he sighed. “You are here with me and I’m grateful for it. Though I don’t know what tomorrow will bring.” He brought Bilbo’s head to his chest, and started tracing a pattern on Bilbo’s back with his hand, up and down, pressing gently. And Bilbo’s shaking ceased.

“I don’t know what you mean. You don’t need to redeem yourself for anything. You never did,” Bilbo said, and felt his eyes closing, this time not with heaviness, but with true comfort and peace.

“A chance for me to show you,” Thorin tried, his voice that was previously steady and confident now shaking. “That you mean far more to me… and I should have never let it endanger our…” and he looked like he was out of words, _just say it, Thorin, tell me what we are to each other_ , “…our bond,” he finished with uncertainty.

“So you... would leave without the Arkenstone?” Bilbo asked in disbelief.

“I would rather be without the Arkenstone than be without you,” Thorin said, and at that moment Bilbo realized his head was pressed against Thorin’s heart. He could feel all the turmoil there in his heartbeat, and could tell that despite wanting to be reassuring, Thorin was scared of something. _Perhaps I transferred my shaki_ _ness_ _to him_ , Bilbo thought with concern. He lifted his head and placed his hands on Thorin’s heart. “Thorin...” he said urgently. “I would not want to part with you. If this is how it is... if this is how you feel... then I’m feeling much better already.”

He could feel Thorin’s heart calming, and some euphoria came over him, a feeling that he had not quite known before, though touches of it had been present at times during their adventure. He felt that this was the peace and happiness he had longed for, and wished he could stay here and feel safe forever. _But he holds me like this only because I’m not feeling well_. _Perhaps now that I told him I feel better this moment will be over. Yet I wish he would never let me go._

 _I could just ask him_ , he continued his thoughts, _I could ask him to hold me like this more often. But I can’t, can I? I’d sound desperate!_ And this was what Bilbo didn’t like about the possibility of falling in love. It would turn into exactly this kind of mess, even more impossible to sort out than...

“It is,” he heard Thorin say. “Always.” And a smile enveloped him, there was so much in this moment, _trust_ , he wanted to name it, _I trust that things will stay like this, that Thorin will never succumb_ _to gold madness again_ _, that he values me as he says he does. I want to trust in this moment_. _I_ _krid, hikhthuzul_ , Bilbo heard in his mind, words unspoken that he was used to finding there, but this time they sounded as if they were being formed in Thorin’s... no, not in his mind, but in his _heart_. _Ikrid, ana id-anat_. And Bilbo understood this and looked at him in complete astonishment, and it felt like the sun and the moon were shining on the Hidden Door all over again, and that it was going to open once more...

...And Thorin didn’t let go of him for a long time, and began stroking Bilbo’s hair and singing something slow and peaceful. The last obstacle was removed, and for the first time, Bilbo thought of saying the words he had wanted to say and wondered how it would feel if Thorin said them back. Yet the moment was perfect as it was; it felt enough for now. _I will tell him_ , he resolved. _I promise myself, right here and now, that before we leave this place_ _he will know_ _how I feel about him._ _I_ _won’t let him enter the Mountain without_ _telling him_.

“We’ll leave as soon as Fili and Kili are fit to travel,” he heard Thorin speak after a while. “Soon, my _kurdu azm_ _â_ _r_...” ****

*** * ***

Fili woke up again, and both he and Kili continued to improve as they passed their first week in the Woodland Realm. Thorin and Bilbo attended to them often, sometimes accompanied by Balin and Dwalin, who also spent their time exchanging fighting tips with Legolas and Tauriel in the forest. Balin maintained correspondence with Dain and Bard, which he reported to Thorin regularly. This is how they found out that Dain’s dwarves had moved into the Mountain and, along with the rest of Thorin’s company, were slowly making it into a proper home. Thorin himself corresponded with Nori and Bofur, who informed him that Gandalf too had entered the Mountain and attempted to remove any curses. However, the two dwarves expressed their uncertainty as to the success of this endeavor.

This last piece of news weighed heavily on Bilbo’s mind, along with his apprehension toward being in the Woodland Realm under the piercing gaze of its ruler. Bilbo found himself needing Thorin’s presence more and more. They did continue to share moments of comfort, though only briefly here and there, as Thorin was still preoccupied with his nephews’ recovery and with the state of his kingdom, often seeking Balin’s counsel. He did, however, bring Bilbo breakfast every morning, played harp for him on occasion (as Tauriel had provided him with one upon request), and walked with him around the palace. Bilbo was uneasy about going anywhere alone, for fear of the Elvenking shadowing his footsteps. He did not trust Thranduil would not try to persuade him to stay again, and did not trust himself to fully resist that attempt. After voicing some of his concerns to Thorin, Dwalin was promptly enlisted as Bilbo’s on-demand bodyguard for anytime the hobbit wanted to take a walk.

For his part, Thranduil did not look eager to talk with him alone again. Bilbo only saw him at dinner every now and then. Yet Thranduil did gaze at him often, with a look so sorrowful and full of longing that Bilbo felt there was more to the Elvenking than met the eye, and eventually grew curious to know more about him. As he felt his strength return more and more, and with it his confidence that he could hold his own against Thranduil, one day he ventured outside unaccompanied.

Right on cue, Thranduil made an appearance, looking most eager to converse with Bilbo again.

“I haven’t given up hope I might prevail upon you to change your mind,” he began instantly. “I know what you need in order to heal; and your healing, Bilbo Baggins, is of great importance to me.”

Bilbo smiled politely. “I am humbled by your generosity, King Thranduil. But I cannot stay here.”

“Ah, so things have changed between you and the dwarf king? He has caught on, hasn’t he?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Bilbo, and for some reason the conversation he had had with Smaug not a month before stirred vividly in his mind.

“Oh, I think you do. One question, Halfling, and I will let you go. Tell me: Are you happy? Are you content? Are you healed?”

 _That’s three questions_ , Bilbo thought, rolling his eyes. Yet he could not entirely dismiss that Thranduil had the ability to cut through the fog and get to the heart of the matter. Regardless of his delivery, the Elvenking _had a point_ in everything he said. This helped Bilbo reflect, in a place where everyone was too busy to think about their own happiness.

He thought of Thorin, who possessed the ability to make him all of these things: happy, healthy, and content. If he only spent more time with Bilbo, if he only showed him more affection. But Thorin was not often available. And Thorin did not know all of Bilbo’s needs. So, in the absence of that… could he say that he was happy? Or healed, or content?

“I am close to being all of these things,” he answered.

“And are you confident that you will get them?”

“Y… yes.”

As they walked through the forest, Bilbo’s shields began to drop, and he felt relaxed again. “King Thranduil,” he asked, “what would you need me here for? Please, let me know now. I might be able to be of some assistance before I leave.” _And you can still keep the Arkenstone_ , he added privately.

So Thranduil got to tell him about his wife. How she was slain by the Gundabad orcs, and he never found her. Instead he just received word from his Elven army that she was gone, that they couldn’t save her. How he had no memory of her death, and no possibility of holding a funeral. How he had to live for hundreds of years without her, protecting his kingdom as darkness and malice were slowly creeping within. How he found comfort in his son, Legolas, but never for long. How he could never heal from the pain of being without his love. And as Thranduil was sharing all of this, Bilbo felt the king’s sorrow, and was saddened beyond belief. Strangely, he felt he could relate to his grief, even though he’d never experienced anything similar. But he had _almost_ experienced it, had he not? The thought sent shivers down his spine.

“All I want is to bring her back, if only for an hour. To see her beautiful eyes, to tell her I love her and I miss her every moment. And to say goodbye, for now, since I’ve never had that chance.”

“I’m sorry,” said Bilbo fidgeting, “I just can’t see how a simple hobbit like me would be able to help. I can’t bring people back from the dead.”

“Well… that is not entirely true, I think,” said Thranduil with a strange twinkle in his eye, and now Bilbo could perceive one very, very strange reason why the Elvenking would want him there. “Nevertheless… even if you could not, I’d like to hear what _you_ would do if you were me. If you were faced with this sorrow, and the impossibility of bringing your love back?”

Bilbo gave a deep sigh. Yes, he had wondered. In the minutes when he was close to despair, clutching Thorin’s hand and wondering if he would live, he had wondered _how_ he’d manage if Thorin died.

He did not have an answer. “I think… I would try to do the things that I know that person liked. If they asked something of me… I’d try to make that happen, in their memory.” He thought of _plant your trees, watch them grow_... But truthfully he wasn’t even sure he would have planted his acorn if Thorin had died. “What would your wife have wanted you to do?” he asked finally.

“She was undoubtedly broken beyond repair that she had to part with Legolas and me. She still is, I am certain, just as I am to be parted from her. For us Elves... such feelings never go away. The more time passes, the deeper the grief. With every season, it makes its way into the world around us, into the trees, the grass, the soil itself. The pain of separation weaves itself into the fabric of space and time, growing stronger and harder to bear with every moment.”

“What about the jewels Thorin returned to you? Do those not help at all?”

“I sleep with them,” said Thranduil. “I cherish them night and day. I look at them and hope to see her in them. But she is not in them. They were not meant to capture her essence, but just as an ornament to complement her beauty... not that any such thing was ever needed.”

“How about drawing her? From memory?”

“I have tried. I am not good at it, though. And others, who have tried at my request, have not managed to capture her either.”

“But there’s a stone statue in the forest. Is that…”

“Yes, that is a sculpture of my wife. That was done while she was alive. It’s a very faithful representation.”

“It’s beautiful,” Bilbo murmured dreamily. “I’ve never seen a more beautiful sculpture.” And he smiled in amusement as he thought of how Thorin would fiercely disapprove of this statement.

“It is. But it doesn’t help. To answer your question, I can’t think of what she would have _wanted_ me to do. She left me no message. There was no time.”

As he said this, Bilbo realized they had been walking back toward the palace, and had now reached the area of the former garden the Elvenking had shown him a week before. Thranduil stopped and gave him an enigmatic look. “However, I’m inclined to think that she would have wanted me to restore _this_ ,” he said. “This is the place where I last saw her.”

They entered the area of the dead garden, and Bilbo gasped, at a loss for words, breath caught in his throat. In place of the withered leaves and barren soil, he beheld a spectacle of flowers in red, purple and violet, and a tree with beautiful pink and white flowers against a background of green grass and leaves. The colors were not too bright; it was as if they were meant to fit the rest of the environment. He briefly wondered why yellow and blue were completely absent from the garden. There was something quiet and humble about the flowers, and he remembered the statue at the edge of the forest, her face peaceful and equally humble, looking as if she held the sadness of her realm in her heart. _I can see what Thranduil loved in her. Loves..._ he corrected himself. _Goodness_ _, is what I see_ _._ _She was good for him. He is lost without her_.

“You grew a garden overnight?” he found himself talking before he could gain control of himself. “How did this happen??”

“Well, it wasn’t _me_ ,” Thranduil said, as if this was but a simple matter. “It turns out I was right after all.” As they walked toward the center of the garden, Bilbo noticed the circular stone structure again. This time, it held a shiny object on top. As Bilbo drew closer, he recognized the object. It was the Arkenstone!

“The stone _is_ magical after all,” said Thranduil. “It brought some of the plants back to life. All I had to do was bring it here.”

Bilbo was astonished. “How...?”

“That’s right, little Halfling. It has tremendous power, just as I suspected. Now all I need is time. To find out what _else_ it can do.”

Then Thranduil gave him a smile of great satisfaction. “This garden is but a small token of what I could offer you if you stayed here. Now... as dear as your king is to you, I trust you won’t share this piece of information with him?”

“Oh. Well... I would expect _you_ would share this news with him, to be honest. The Arkenstone is his. If anyone should know about its powers, it is him.”

“Undoubtedly. Then why don’t I do that,” said Thranduil casually. Then his face changed into a sudden frown. “But if I do, he most certainly _will_ want it back. Do you see the problem, Halfling?”

 _I see_. _Better that Thorin should think it’s just a pretty stone with some symbolism for his line. But... if it does hold such power_ _– a_ good _power –_ _... maybe it won’t drive him mad after all. Maybe Smaug lied. And when I spoke to him, Balin_ _wasn’t sure anymore_ _that the Arkenstone is_ _bad news_...

 _Ye_ _t Thranduil’s sorrow... surely he deserves a chance to... anyone would, no matter how big of a jerk_... now he felt an unmistakable twinge on his forehead, and remembered Thorin saying the Elvenking had attempted to read his thoughts earlier. Too late, for Bilbo had been an open book all this time! _I. Must._ _S_ _top_. Then he conjured a serene face and tried to insert a thought, _If any average jerk deserves a chance,_ _all the_ _more so Thranduil, the great King_...

“Flattery will not save you, Halfling,” said Thranduil. Bilbo was startled, though strangely, the king only appeared to be amused.

 _This is messed up._ _I need you, Thorin_. _I can’t face this without you._

“I request some time to think more,” he tried to fight his panic, “of what I would do if I were in your position. In the meantime... I wish you good luck with your... experiments.” He smiled generously at Thranduil. “Your garden is beautiful, dear King. Like your wife.” And after a small bow, he turned and went back inside the palace.

“I’m going to go into the fir trees

There where I last saw her

But the evening is throwing a cloth upon the land

And upon the ways behind the edge of the forest

And the forest, it is so black and empty

Woe is me, oh woe, and the birds sing no more

Without you I cannot be, without you

With you I am alone too, without you

Without you I count the hours, without you

With you the seconds stand still

They aren’t worth it (without you)

On the branches in the ditches

It’s now silent and without life

And breathing becomes oh so hard for me

Woe is me, oh woe, and the birds sing no more”

(Rammstein, _Ohne Dich/Without You_ )

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Khuzdul: 
> 
> ikrid: trust  
> hikhthuzul: always  
> ana id-anat: to the end  
> kurdu: heart  
> azmâr: sound
> 
> In Khuzdul, the words "trust" and "heart" have the same root.
> 
> [www.dwarrowscholar.com](https://www.dwarrowscholar.com)


	13. Love Is Blindness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo receives counsel from Balin and Dwalin before deciding what to say to Thorin. Later, Thorin spends some time in the garden trying to sort out his emotions.  
> This chapter now has fan art at the end, my painting of a scene very dear to me ❤️

“You know you’re not supposed to venture outside all alone,” Dwalin scolded, he and Balin eyeing Bilbo with concern as they stood near the entrance to Thranduil’s palace. “Thorin is worried sick about you. Come! Let’s take you to him.”

“We were just about to go outside in search for you,” said Balin. “Are you all right, Bilbo?”

Bilbo took a moment to think, an idea striking him.

“Balin, Dwalin... Would it be a terrible inconvenience if I had a word with you both?”

“Spit it out,” said Dwalin, “but be quick. Thorin is waiting.”

“It’s Thranduil. He... he just showed me something out of a fairy tale. A garden. A garden that was dead a week ago, now has flowers and trees in full bloom. He managed to resurrect it in a matter of days. Do you want to guess how he did it?”

“Can’t imagine he worked his noble fingers to the bone,” scoffed Balin.

“He used crap from his majestic Elk as fertilizer?” said Dwalin.

“He used the Arkenstone! All right?” Bilbo shouted, exasperated. “So now it really does seem that it is magical, just as he thought!” The two brothers continued to stare at him, unfazed. “And now he feels encouraged to continue experimenting with it. In the meantime... well, he says he offers me this garden if I decide to stay here. Which is really confusing, you know? If I decide to stay here, the Arkenstone goes with Thorin. I’m not sure how Thranduil plans to maintain this garden without the Arkenstone.”

Dwalin and Balin gasped in horror, and Bilbo stopped for a moment, unsure.

“So... the question is whether I should tell Thorin. You know, I wouldn’t want to keep anything from him. I want to show him that he can trust me. On the other hand... this magic business... may severely mess with him. Who’s to say that the Arkenstone won’t destroy his mind if he finds out...?”

He paused to catch his breath. “And yet, it may not. He might know how to handle its magical powers. Balin... do you see what I’m saying?”

Balin gripped his shoulder reassuringly. “Don’t worry, Bilbo. For all we know the Elvenking is just bragging. He could have brought in some fake plants, placed a powerful magic on them to make them look somewhat real, and poof. Have you looked closely at that garden?”

“But why would he do that? Why would he want to brag to me?”

“To dazzle you,” said Balin resolutely. “A cheap trick from a simple elf. He wants you to stay here, remember? And _he_ sure wants to mess with Thorin. Which brings me to my next point. Bilbo, I strongly feel... are you with me on this, brother?” - Dwalin gave him a firm nod - “if you must keep something from Thorin, it’s the Thranduil-gifting-the-garden-to-you part. If I understood that correctly.”

“You understood correctly, brother,” Dwalin interjected angrily. “I wouldn’t put anything past that faithless woodland sprite.”

“I would spare Thorin this part of the news if I were you,” Balin finished.

“By Mahal,” Dwalin groaned, and it sounded like the axe in his hand groaned with him, “that’s the last thing Thorin needs to know! He’s been through enough!”

“Huh.” Bilbo paused in confusion. “Guys, I don’t think you truly see the problem here, and I mean no disrespect. If Thorin... if he should know about the Arkenstone’s powers... his mind... the madness could return. I’m sorry to be so blunt, but I’m concerned about that!” he yelled, all worked up in alarm.

“No, laddie. Don’t you worry about that,” Balin repeated. “Thorin is stronger than that. He conquered the dragon sickness and recovered from his wounds after almost dying. That’s gotta mean something. He learned his lesson. Now if you learned yours... you should probably tell him about the stone’s...” - he cleared his throat - “...powers.”

“Balin,” Bilbo insisted gently. “Do you mind telling me... _how_ can you be sure that he learned his lesson?”

“If you still can’t figure that out, why don’t you ask him yourself. In the meantime, I would encourage you to be honest and let him decide if he wants the Arkenstone back or not. And trust in him to make a good decision.”

“And if I _don_ _’_ _t_ tell him, are you two going to?” Bilbo asked.

Balin and Dwalin did not answer. Instead they just eyed each other with uncertainty, brows raised.

“Hmm. That’s what I thought. All right, let’s go back.”

“Bilbo,” Balin said as they walked, “about the garden bit... I’m all for you and Thorin working on trust, but I really wouldn’t mention that Thranduil did this for you. What Thorin doesn’t know cannot hurt him.”

“I fail to see how that bit is relevant,” said Bilbo. “But fine. It’s not like I wanted to stay here and enjoy it in the first place!”

“Good,” Dwalin gave a tired grunt. “That’s good!” 

* * *

Thorin walked towards the garden with his head down, his right hand touching his sword as if to reassure himself it was still with him. The anger that had consumed him through the day – his worst enemy – was now beginning to subside.

Bilbo had come to see him. Bilbo had told him about the Arkenstone’s newly-found powers.

He had held Bilbo’s head in his hands, pressing his temples a little too hard, as if he wanted to get the point inside Bilbo’s head with no trace of uncertainty, and only by sheer will power kept himself from saying or doing anything he feared would be deemed inappropriate. _You are still more important to me, and I would leave it here if you returned to my home with me_ , he said instead, and wished the glitter of happiness he saw in Bilbo’s eyes would be enough to keep him calm for the hours to come. _Please don_ _’_ _t go anywhere alone, that is all I ask_ , he pleaded, reminding Bilbo of his distrust of the Elvenking. Bilbo nodded, and they left it at that...

Then his anger had stirred, and he let go of Bilbo and blindly made his way to the Elvenking’s throne, and saw him sitting there, looking greatly pleased. Words were exchanged, fruitless and meaningless, as Thorin only wanted to fire a piece of his mind at him, to tell him none of this was right, without any practical purpose. _The Arkenstone is not yours, you will pay for this, how dare you, if your wife does come back I hope she restores you back to sanity, but fine, for now you can keep it, as Master Baggins will not stay in your kingdom no matter how many magical objects you have that are not yours to begin with_ , and Thranduil gave him a candid stare and said, perfectly unperturbed, _“_ _Master Baggins_ _”_ _might reconsider, as the beauty of the garden I gifted him is no doubt going to be a determining factor in his choice to leave or to... stay_

and Thorin’s mind darkened beyond belief. 

He had turned around and left without words, returned to his room to pick up his sword, and stormed out, running into Bilbo who had been looking for him with concern. _I wish to be alone_ , he said and walked on. Balin and Dwalin emerged instantly and insisted on escorting him wherever he’d go, _I don_ _’_ _t need_ anyone _escorting me!_ he roared, _Just make sure he is safe and don_ _’_ _t lose sight of him again!_

He blindly wandered the halls of the Woodland Realm, losing his way once or twice, ending up at the dungeons level, and in the blink of an eye saw himself caught in the darkness of that prison and wished he could turn back time and be trapped there one more time... but what could he have done differently? It was pointless to revisit memories from what seemed like another life. Then he managed to find the exit, wandered through the forest, glad to run into some dead trees and swing his sword at them, smashing and smashing until they were reduced to splinters. He continued walking aimlessly, wishing he would run into spiders so he had something more rewarding to do, and he eventually reached the edge of the forest where he and his Company had entered the first time around. As he beheld the statue of Thranduil’s wife, he felt the kindness in her gaze, and his mind started to calm. He turned around and went back...

...And here he was, in pieces, entering Thranduil’s garden to see for himself, to see if this was something that Bilbo could ever like, that _he_ could have ever made, that could ever match his dream...

Yet he didn’t look at the garden right away. Instead, his eyes were drawn to the Arkenstone lying on top of what looked like a stone altar. He kneeled before the altar and laid his head on its top, his hair spread out, lightly touching the Arkenstone. And he wrapped his arms around the altar. _How is this working out for you, my child?_ he thought he heard Mahal’s voice from deep within the stone. The hours passed unceasingly into the evening, and he wept bitterly.

While he rested so, Thorin had a dream. In his dream the stone altar was a deep well, and instead of resting on its top, his head was falling into its empty pool. And the pool was slowly filling with his tears. The Arkenstone lay at the bottom of the well, its bright rays showing through the water. Thorin reached down for it, but the well was too deep and his hand couldn’t touch the bottom. He stubbornly tried again, and it felt like he was drowning. The only way to save himself was to leave the Arkenstone at the bottom, or he would take its place. He brought his arm back up and got his head out of the water. Yet he couldn’t stop the tears from flowing, and they soon filled the well to the top. And now the Arkenstone lay on top, floating on the water, and it was easy to reach for it. As he hesitantly extended his hand towards it, Thorin beheld the deepness of the water once more, and this time Bilbo’s tiny acorn lay at the bottom. As Thorin’s hand was getting closer and closer to the Arkenstone, the acorn was getting smaller and smaller. He gasped and withdrew his hand. And he threw himself into the water, trying to reach for the acorn instead, and did not fight the sensation of drowning. And he woke up, his head jolting violently and hitting the top of the altar, where the Arkenstone still stood, unmoved.

...It was completely dark now, when Thorin lifted his head and beheld the Arkenstone through the tracks of his tears. Oh, how beautifully it shone, its blue and yellow light piercing through the shadows of the evening, lighting the branches and flowers on the trees and warming their colors with its light. He reached to touch it, and marveled that it seemed to be there for anyone to take. _The elf must have cast a powerful magic on it. It won_ _’_ _t be easily moved_ , he thought. And he felt a measure of comfort in the touch.

He looked around, taking in the sight of the garden for the first time, and it felt somewhat wrong. This was not the garden that he would have wanted to create for Bilbo. Yet Bilbo may enjoy it. Thranduil had got to him first, had been able to offer him a thing of beauty when Thorin could not.

Then he thought he heard the Arkenstone make a sound. As he beheld its light again, he noticed the rays emanating from it getting brighter, and followed their path. The light reflected on the trees, and Thorin could make out that it formed six Dwarvish runes. _EREBOR_ , they spelled. Then the light changed and the runes with it, and now they spelled _HOME_.

 _I know_ , he whispered tenderly. _You don_ _’_ _t belong here. And yet I can_ _’_ _t take you home_. The Arkenstone emitted another sound, and focused its light downward, towards the flowers that covered the ground.

He looked in the direction of the rays. Flowers. Pink, violet, red, white. Thorin was not impressed with those colors. _But he... he may very well be_. And only now did he notice the absence of yellow and blue.

 _Yellow is for sunshine_ , he thought absently. _Yellow is... how I see him. What he means to me_.

 _And blue... is the color that ties him to me. The color of the flowers I wanted to give him_. _So that he would stay with me._

Would Bilbo have liked that?

 _It doesn_ _’_ _t matter anymore. If_ this _can make him happy..._

“Thorin!”

He turned to see Dwalin standing at the entrance to the garden, looking fed up with life.

“In case you haven’t noticed, it’s night time. Everybody’s getting ready for bed. Fili and Kili said if you don’t cease your brooding at once they would come get you themselves. And they’re not allowed to walk yet, so the wretched task falls on me. Oh, and Balin is already sleeping. Which means that your hobbit lies sort of... unattended.”

“I’ll be there, Dwalin,” said Thorin, and there he stood dizzily, resting his hand on his forehead and taking in the evening breeze.

They walked together, Dwalin taking immediate note of Thorin’s disheveled appearance. “Is this about that stupid garden?” he asked.

“Of course it is about that stupid garden. The elf says he grew it for _him_. Do you see what he’s doing, Dwalin?”

“Ah. If you want to know my opinion, it’s nothing special. I think you could do better.”

“Do better,” Thorin echoed full of sarcasm, “or do _nothing_. Have you been keeping track of the elf’s latest achievements? First he gracefully accepts to shelter my nephews and help with their treatment, despite our recent... argument. Then the Arkenstone – _my_ Arkenstone – ends up in his realm, with no effort on his part. And now he brings back a garden lost long ago, with the help of _my_ Arkenstone, and offers it to my... my...”

“Thorin, enough. It’s not like he’s interested in Bilbo in _that_ way, is he? Who cares about his blasted achievements?”

“I don’t know, Dwalin. I wouldn’t be surprised if he were. But I don’t think you see the problem. I wanted to offer Bilbo a home. To him, home is his books, his armchair, his garden... These things are important to him; they mean happiness. Thranduil has already got there in one week. For all I know, when he showed him that garden he already saw that smile of joy on Bilbo’s face, that should never be meant for him. Forget it,” he closed abruptly with a heavy frown. “I can see that I’m not cut out for this.”

“I don’t even know if Bilbo would _want_ a garden from you,” Dwalin remarked. "He seems happy enough just being around you. Maybe you don’t need to _do_ anything.”

“You’re wrong. I need to do _everything_. I _know_ him. I have seen the things he likes, and providing them for him is the key.”

“Fine,” Dwalin sighed. “By that logic it does seem you have failed so far.”

“Even as a king I’d probably fail, Dwalin,” Thorin continued, his head sinking deeper towards the ground. “I am telling you right now, and if you want to announce it out loud to our kingdom when we get back, go right ahead. I would readily give up the Arkenstone, without a second thought, no matter how much power it has, just so he would stay in Erebor. Do you understand? Even if all I get is to see him once a day at dinner and nothing more.”

“Speaking of that...” Dwalin said gravely, “the hobbit was looking for you earlier and asked me to go outside with him. So we went, and he saw you kneeling in the garden and weeping over the Arkenstone. He was appalled, Thorin. Now, it’s not my business, and I’m certainly no genius in matters of the heart, but if I were him I’d think you’re in love with the Arkenstone!”

“Undeserving,” Thorin went on as if he hadn’t heard a thing. “Undeserving of his love, I am. But that’s all right, because I’ll never have it. And equally undeserving of ruling my beloved kingdom. I’m a warrior, nothing more. I should just accept it; I don’t know how to do any of this.”

Despite his annoyance, Dwalin proclaimed in agreement that truly, both he and Thorin belonged in battle, where things were simple and clear-cut, and on that note they entered the healing chamber. Fili and Kili cheered with gladness at their uncle’s return, and Thorin spoke to them affectionately. “I’m sorry I was gone for so long. I’m going to sleep in my room this time. I need to get some thinking done.” Next he spoke to Tauriel, who was there once more, holding hands with Kili, the sweetest look of love between them. “If you could spend the night here I would be most grateful.” She nodded happily while Kili couldn’t resist, “Are you really going to give us some alone time, Uncle?” he said hopefully, in a teasing tone. “You won’t be alone,” Thorin retorted menacingly, his words equally targeted to Fili, who responded with a yawn.

Then he moved towards Bilbo, who sat on a nearby bed, looking lost. With uncertainty, he asked him if he had everything he needed. _Yes_ , Bilbo said in a miserable tone, and Thorin hastily bid everyone good night and went to his room.

This was the first time he actually had a use for it other than to store things.

He needed to think, yet he didn’t know the first thing about thinking. Thorin was a person of raw instinct and a person of action.

His eyes were drawn to the harp that was sitting in a corner. He removed Orcrist and laid it against the table, then took the harp in his arms, sat on a chair and began to play, the first time he’d do so only for himself in the Elven realm. And he played and sang of falling in love like a fool and not knowing how to deal with it, and uselessly vowed to never have such feelings again...

After about half an hour of lamenting through music he heard a knock on the door, and didn’t stop playing to answer. He’d answer the door after finishing the song, if there was still anyone there...

But the person at the door did not wait for an answer, and Thorin saw Bilbo approach slowly, hesitantly, holding something in his hands, which he placed on the table. Thorin couldn’t see what it was. His eyes were small, almost closed all the way, red from the tears of earlier, and his vision was a blur. He put the harp aside, and saw Bilbo move towards him.

“You missed dinner, Thorin,” Bilbo spoke softly and solemnly, his voice surrounding the space with calm. And now Thorin could see two plates filled with food lying on the table. Then Bilbo brought his hands to Thorin’s eyes. “And these have seen better days. You know, it’s a crime to cry with these eyes.” And he covered Thorin’s eyes gently with his hands.

“Now, I don’t mean to intrude upon your privacy, but I would like to stay here while you have dinner. And... have dinner with you. Just to... make sure that you actually _eat_.”

Thorin’s eyes closed under the touch of Bilbo’s hands, and yet he felt like something inside him was opening and he could see with it, could gaze far away and so close at the same time. In the distance all he saw was blackness and darkness – or was it the blindness in him -, while if he gazed close he could see two stars shining a dim light. His mind struggled frantically to put the puzzle together, that this was dinner, an important meal of the day, that Bilbo wanted to eat with him, which meant that perhaps Bilbo had not wanted to eat without him, perhaps he had waited for him...

“I would like that,” he broke his silence, and covered Bilbo’s hands with his own, moving them slowly to the sides. Bilbo’s hands touched his temples, calming the last bit of tension in them, and Thorin opened his eyes, their blue light returned in them.

* * *

“Thorin... is there anything you want to talk about?” Bilbo asked after they finished eating, as he stood from his chair, switching uncertain looks between Thorin and the door.

“Yes,” said Thorin. “I would ask you one thing.” Then he paused, looking down and not knowing how to begin.

“Ask me.”

“Bilbo, do you like what Thranduil did with that garden?”

Bilbo was silent for a while. Then he spoke. “I do like it. I think the garden fits perfectly here in the Woodland Realm. And it made me think of Thranduil’s wife. I could almost feel her spirit there. Why do you ask?”

“And if you were to...” Thorin continued, “if let’s say at some point you decided to live somewhere else, somewhere other than the Shire... is this the kind of garden you would want for yourself?”

“Hmm. I haven’t thought about that. I honestly don’t even know if I would grow a garden at all if I were to live away from the Shire.” Bilbo paused to think for a moment. “I don’t know. It seems to me that Thranduil’s garden is missing something.”

“I thought that too.”

“When he showed it to me, I noticed it missed certain... colors. And I wondered, because his wife- well, I’m sure she was a woman of taste. I don’t think she would have limited herself to pink and red and the like.”

“Probably not,” Thorin said, not feeling like he grasped exactly what Bilbo was saying, but definitely willing to agree.

“If I were to guess – and Thorin, this is really just a wild guess – I would say that the Arkenstone may have not resurrected _all_ of the garden. Maybe it left some things out.”

“Mmm. Do you think so?”

“Maybe. But what do I know, I’m just a simple hobbit. I do have some knowledge of gardening, though,” he mused with a smirk. Then he looked at the door again nervously.

* * *

“Bilbo, is there anything _you_ wanted to talk about?”

“One thing. Though I don’t know how to say it.”

“Tell me. Anything.”

“I saw you earlier. In the garden. It felt like this Arkenstone thing broke your heart. So I want to know, because earlier you told me you’d still leave it here, and everything seemed fine. But then you left and were gone for hours. And you didn’t eat, and I worry that you don’t intend to sleep. Yet you said I’d never see you like _that_ again.”

“Everything I said still stands,” said Thorin, trying to hide his disappointment that perhaps Bilbo had brought him dinner only out of concern and nothing more. “Never doubt that.”

“Then why... I understand you being upset with Thranduil, but you also seemed sad and lost and... unwell, and I don’t know why. I can’t bear to see you like this.”

“Because I’m a fool,” said Thorin. “There are things... some things I cannot share with you. Things I have to face alone. And when I’m alone, I don’t always act right.”

“But why wouldn’t you share them with me? Why wouldn’t you let me try to help you?”

“Because they concern you.”

“Oh.” They sat in silence for some time, while Bilbo pondered with a frown. “And if I asked you to share them with me anyway?”

“Then I would tell you that I need more time.”

“Huh. _Time_. A tricky thing, time, considering I almost lost you. Well... I think I should go back now. Fili was getting ready to sleep when I came to see you. I should probably check on those lovebirds.” Bilbo walked towards Thorin, who was still sitting on his chair. He raised his arms and enclosed Thorin’s head in them, running his fingers through his hair.

“I have been pushed over the edge,” said Thorin dreamily. “You should not have had to witness that. But it’s all right now. Now I’m slowly coming back...”

“I’m glad to hear it,” said Bilbo, and placed a kiss on Thorin’s forehead. “Sleep well, Thorin.”

“...to the center,” Thorin murmured as he watched his love release him and walk out of the room.

* * *

 _I love you_. _But I have nothing to offer you. And I_ _’_ _m still not sure you could ever forgive me_ , he whispered to the air that filled the emptiness of the room.

“If blood will flow when flesh and steel are one

Drying in the color of the evening sun

Tomorrow’s rain will wash the stains away

But something in our minds will always stay

Perhaps this final act was meant

To clinch a lifetime’s argument

That nothing comes from violence

And nothing ever could

For all those born beneath an angry star

Lest we forget how fragile we are

On and on the rain will fall

Like tears from a star

Like tears from a star

On and on the rain will say

How fragile we are

How fragile we are”

(Sting, _Fragile_ )


	14. In A Manner of Speaking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin starts teaching Bilbo Khuzdul. Fili and Kili get acquainted with their surroundings and find out what Thranduil has been up to. The Elvenking’s demands on his guests continue to increase.

“Khuzdul is more than a language, Master Baggins.” Thorin held a pencil and some pieces of paper in his hands, giving Bilbo a solemn look as they both sat on the floor in front of the fireplace in Thorin’s room. “Like music, once it penetrates your being, it never leaves you. It becomes part of your very soul, and you can never run out of it.”

“I can believe that,” said Bilbo, sending a playful smile in the direction of Thorin’s seriousness.

“This,” Thorin pointed to the paper, “is only for temporary use. Until Khuzdul enters _here_.” And he rested his hand on Bilbo’s heart.

“There are two major aspects to Khuzdul. One is the sound of the words, which you can learn verbally with no need for any aid, as long as you have someone to teach you. The other aspect are the runes, for which we need paper. However, once written on, the paper will not leave this room. You will stay here for as long as you need to internalize the written runes, and when you need to leave we will throw all paper into the fire. If you should wish to revisit any runes at a later time, we will write them again. And again.”

“Thorin... why are you teaching me your language, with runes no less, when no one outside your race is supposed to know it?”

“Because we’ll be going to Erebor soon. You will hear this language spoken often, and I want you to be able to understand what is said around you.”

 _Yet since I’m not one of your race, I’m not supposed to understand it_ , thought Bilbo. _You’re not answering my question, Thorin_. He didn’t press though, and instead let himself be carried along by the curiosity and bewilderment of it all.

“And I’m supposed to keep this a secret, right?”

“Absolutely. You are not to share this with anyone, the fact that you’re learning it or the language itself.”

“All right. So what are we starting with?”

“With the things that you like.”

Bilbo gaped in surprise, while Thorin stood up and looked towards the fireplace, his eyes full of longing and desire.

“It’s the best way to learn: by associating the beautiful things in your life with words new to you. That way you’ll never forget them. And hopefully, in time... the words will be beautiful too. To you.” Thorin looked at him as if it were understood that they would. Then he walked towards Bilbo and sat quietly behind him, encircling him in his arms.

“So close your eyes and think about all the things that you like. Imagine that they are here with you, and tell me all about them.”

Bilbo did as requested, yet instead of thinking of what he’d most likely say on a regular day - normally he’d talk about the comforts of home - he could only think of how much he liked being walled in like this, enclosed in the safest and most comfortable of spaces. And he thought that he didn’t want to wait, that this would be a perfect time to tell Thorin how he felt about him. Yet Thorin had mentioned something about needing more time. Bilbo was not sure for what, _but just in case it has to do with confessing feelings I should probably wait too. But you sure are not making it easy for me_ , he scolded Thorin in his mind.

“The sun. I love the sun. I see myself sitting on grass, leaning against a tree, and the sun is shining its light on me. It is warm and bright, and I can feel the tree trunk on my back and the firm soil under me, and I can smell the flowers around me.” He turned to look at Thorin with eyes now open and shining. “Is this too much?” Thorin shook his head, staring at him in amazement. “Oh, Thorin, I can never have too much sun.”

“ _Ibriz_ ,” said Thorin as he proceeded to write runes on a piece of paper, which he held out in Bilbo’s view, all the while keeping his arms around him. “Sun.”

Then he pulled another piece of paper and continued to write. “ _Anlakh_. Shine,” and he showed Bilbo the new runes, pausing as if to give Bilbo time to take it all in.

“ _Ulkhud_. Light.”

“ _Ulkhud_ ,” Bilbo repeated in fascination. He felt he recognized this word, and thought about how the little notebook he had used previously, while not containing runes, had been so wonderfully helpful. Since he already knew a few words here and there, he could now try to focus on runes more than on meaning.

Thorin held all three pieces of paper for Bilbo to see. “Notice that some letters occur twice in a word, which makes them stand out. You will probably learn those first. _I_ you will learn from the sun. _A_ you will learn from its shining. And _U_ from its light.” Then he let the pieces fall to the floor, while Bilbo continued to look at the runes carefully.

They kept at it for a while, Bilbo describing his favorite things and Thorin giving him words accompanied by written runes. Bilbo studied the runes avidly, making as many mental notes as he could. At some point Thorin wanted to share a particular word, _ozrib_ , which meant “the art of writing”. _So that you know the name of what you’re learning_ , he said proudly, as if this art was the most important thing in the world.

It was then that, after contemplating this last set of runes, Bilbo saw the opportunity to ask something of Thorin. “How about now it’s your turn. Will you name something _you_ like?”

“I can tell you a _word_ that I like,” Thorin smiled, and nestled Bilbo closer in his arms. “ _K_ _hathiz_. It means _eternal_.”

“Show me,” Bilbo asked. “How it is written.” He watched Thorin write the word and hold it out for him.

“ _Khathiz_. I like it too. I feel like I’ve heard it before,” said Bilbo, not taking his eyes off the paper, examining one particular rune that he had been waiting for and was now seeing for the first time.

“It is how I feel now,” said Thorin. “In this moment. Being with you like this makes me feel... eternal. But enough about me. I would like to go back to you and what you like.”

“Me too,” said Bilbo, and took the pencil from Thorin’s hand, as well as the last piece of paper available. He glanced quickly at the words on the floor, cradled the blank paper in his lap while writing on it, then showed Thorin his first five runes.

“ _Thorin_ , right? Is that how you spell it?” And he dared to look behind himself, and saw something for the first time, a new smile \- something between amused and happily mindblown \- spread on Thorin’s face.

“That’s very good, Master Baggins.”

* * *

Another week passed. The garden continued to grow, and Bilbo slowly and methodically convinced Thorin to visit it with him and spend time there together. Sunlight filtered through the trees, and the Arkenstone shone its beautiful rays. They sat there peacefully, happy in their mutual understanding that Bilbo could afford to indulge their host by enjoying a temporary gift that at the end of the day didn’t exactly mean the world to him. They also continued their Khuzdul lessons, and Bilbo tried to no avail to persuade Thorin to let them practice writing and speaking it in the garden. Thorin insisted that only inside the halls it was safe to use Khuzdul, that in the garden they may be watched, and Bilbo chuckled and asked him if it was really that or was it that Thorin had no idea what the plants in the garden were called. And Thorin laughed and said _That too_...

Fili and Kili were now able to walk again, and were encouraged to do so to speed their recovery, and the overall mood relaxed considerably as they got more and more active. Thorin sat with them often and told them about the latest news from Erebor, about the Company, and reminisced about their quest, praising them for their bravery in taking it up with him and following him into battle. It seemed Thorin’s past wounds and some of his burdens were finally being laid to rest, and Bilbo felt all the happiness as he sat and watched the three sons of Durin talk in their low, content voices. The room vibrated with calm, and he felt himself at ease.

Fili and Kili were not satisfied to just recover quietly, though, and as soon as they were cleared for walking they started pestering their uncle to give them something to do. They had lain there long enough, and certainly understood they were guests in a foreign realm with not much going on at the moment, but surely, they felt there must still be important tasks to attend to. Thorin eventually acquiesced, and told them they could use their keen eyes for snooping around the Woodland Realm (especially outside, he noted) and find out what Thranduil was up to in his dealings with the Arkenstone. _That sounds like a great idea_ _! We’re supposed to walk around anyway, it’s good for our health!_ they cheered, overjoyed, and got to it right away.

Their first reports did not seem to include anything significant. Apparently there was a lot of commotion regarding the production of wine. While the Elvenking still imported the coveted drink from Laketown, rumor had it that he wasn’t quite satisfied with it any longer. He wanted something... better. The guards spoke of how he was sampling all kinds of different wine combinations, which as of late included his own brand. Thorin did not pay much attention to those reports, and urged Fili and Kili to try to glean something a little more remarkable. Bilbo, however, wondered at the news about the wine, and felt there was more to it than met the eye. _Or maybe Thranduil already knows that Thorin’s nephews are busy spying and is trying to create a diversion for them_.

One day, the two young dwarves asked Bilbo to join them on a walk outside, and seemed so secretive and fidgety about it that the hobbit’s interest was piqued, despite his caution in venturing outdoors. So he went, and as soon as they stepped out of the palace the two brothers started talking.

“All right Bilbo, we have news. We thought we’d run it by you first,” Fili began.

“So last night Thranduil had the statue of his wife brought into the garden. And he placed the Arkenstone in her hands. And then he tried to talk to her. The statue, I mean,” Kili continued, his eyes bright with excitement.

“We couldn’t hear what he was saying, but after a while it was clear he was becoming pretty frustrated.”

“He went on talking for a while, and at some point started shouting, then pounded with his fists on the ground... Later he held the statue and even wept! and still nothing. No answer.”

“And then we heard him roar like thunder, _What will it take for you to help me?_ ” said Fili, his eyes widening as he spoke.

“We didn’t know he had it in him,” said Kili. “Can you believe it Bilbo, this time he was addressing the Arkenstone!”

“And then we saw him look around, and it seemed like he spotted something in the environment.”

“And then we encountered a... slight problem. He came over to the bush where we were hiding and said, _I know you two are there_.”

“He couldn’t have _seen_ us,” Fili interjected with wisdom. “The elf king must have a sixth sense.”

“...And to our surprise, he wasn’t mad that we were spying on him. Instead he asked us if we could translate something for him.”

“...And he led us to the statue, and spoke to the Arkenstone again!”

“We thought for sure he’d gone off the deep end,” Kili sighed. “But what do you know, then the Arkenstone did something weird, it projected some of its light in a peculiar way, revealing... runes! Dwarvish runes,” he specified, now looking tormented with worry.

“And then Thranduil asked if we could identify what kind of runes they were. He suspected they were Dwarvish.”

“... and we told him no, we couldn’t identify them.”

“But we think he knows we lied... there was a gleam in his eyes. Yet he didn’t press further. He just gave us a disgusted look as if we were useless, and left the premises. So... he’s probably looking for a translator as we speak.”

“Bilbo, we’re going to get in trouble with Uncle for this. We blew our cover and we... well, let’s just say that we’re not very good liars.”

“So can you put in a good word for us? So Thorin doesn’t skin us alive. We haven’t even fully recovered yet, we’d like to enjoy life for a while longer.”

Throughout their storytelling Bilbo kept shifting his eyes from one to the other, and now that they were finished his eyes were caught between them, looking in the distance as he weighed their information in his mind.

“Hmm... I would say there’s more trouble coming from Thranduil. I agree with you that he’s looking for a translator, and since there are a few dwarves in his realm at the moment, it won’t be hard to find one. Though I don’t believe any of them would agree to help. Kili, if you want to avoid trouble with Thorin I would strongly suggest you don’t teach Tauriel any runes, and that is all I’m going to say.”

As soon as he said that, Bilbo realized something. He had learned over fifty Khuzdul runes in the last week and was becoming quite good at reading them. _Thranduil will_ _come to me sooner or later, when it becomes clear to him that the dwarves won’t_ _translate anything for_ _him. And he’ll read my mind and discover that I know Dwarvish runes_ _,_ _though I probably won’t know how to translate the_ _words_ _into Westron. Either way, I’m in deep trouble_.

“Fili, Kili... I just remembered something I need to do. I’ll catch you later.” He ran back to the palace, and just as he was about to enter he ran into Thranduil, who commanded him to stop. Bilbo begged him to let him pass, and eventually heard the Elvenking’s authoritative voice say _Y_ _ou have five minutes_ _._ _I_ _f you don’t return I will come find you_. And Bilbo ran some more, sweat dripping on his face, and didn’t stop until he reached Thorin’s room.

To his surprise though, Thranduil did not follow him, and Bilbo spent the rest of the day inside the halls, sharing Fili and Kili’s scoop with Thorin and trying to make a plan together.

“He’ll come for me, Thorin,” he said in an aggravated tone, as they stood at the door to Thorin’s room, undecided whether they should attend dinner. “And I won’t be able to hide my mind from him. He’ll hypnotize me into interpreting those runes.”

“I can’t believe the Arkenstone communicates with the elf too,” said Thorin resentfully. “So much for its loyalty.”

“Y- yes. That is a shame. At the same time maybe the Arkenstone feels really sorry for him. I confess I do too; part of me wants to help him.”

“No, Bilbo. We don’t know what he’s capable of. And he needs to learn to ask nicely, not terrorize you. Come. Let’s go get some dinner.”

So they went to the dining hall and sat down to eat, and as soon as Thranduil directed his persisting gaze at Bilbo, Thorin saw fit to speak to him.

“King Thranduil. Let’s cut to the chase. I learned from my nephews that my Arkenstone has possibly blessed you with a message. I imagine you will require help in decoding it.”

“Not from you,” said Thranduil serenely. “There are other dwarves I can ask. Or even better... the Halfling that seems to be glued to your side.”

“Then ask them,” Thorin replied. “I doubt any of them will agree to help you. I request that you leave Master Baggins out of this, though; he is not your property, you can’t jerk him around as you please. If you want to ask him you will have to go through me first. And I can assure you I am the only one who will be willing to help you.”

“And why would you be so eager to help me?” asked Thranduil. “Something doesn’t add up here.”

“Perhaps out of respect for the precious jewel of my house,” said Thorin. “I will translate the runes for you, if indeed there should be any. However, we’ll do this on _my_ terms.”

“Let’s hear them,” said Thranduil politely.

“You and I will go to the garden. You will try to communicate with the Arkenstone but you will keep your head down at all times. You will avert your elf eyes from the sacred runes created by my Maker. And I will look for an answer, and if there is one that I can read, I will translate it for you.”

“Very well. I will agree to your terms if Mister Baggins is allowed to join us,” said Thranduil.

“No. Just you and me, elf king.”

“How will I know you won’t be lying to me?” Thranduil said with flaming passion in his eyes. “That you won’t give me a made-up answer?”

“You’re a mind-reader, are you not?” Bilbo inserted himself, forgetting rules of propriety once again. “Surely you’ll be able to tell if Thorin is lying?”

“Well... the dwarf’s mind is not always easy to read,” Thranduil answered uncomfortably. “However, _your_ mind, Halfling, is an open book. If he’s lying, you’ll know. So _I_ ’ll know,” he added with a satisfied grin.

“No I won’t,” said Bilbo. “I don’t know any Khuzdul, and I wouldn’t want to look at those runes anyway. They’re not for me to see.” And he marveled at how easy it was for him to lie.

“Oh, I think you do, and you most certainly _will_ look, because I will ask you to. And if your king is lying, I’ll need only take one look at you and I will know.”

Bilbo turned his eyes to Thorin and shook his head in protest. _No, Thorin. Don’t offer him this help. He doesn’t deserve it_.

Thorin looked unmoved, his eyes like blazing fire. _But he will torment you. He will force you if I don’t_.

“It’s getting hot in here,” said Thranduil brightly. “I can hear _you both_ thinking. Let’s just take this to the garden already, shall we?”

Then Thorin’s face changed to pleading. _I need you there. With me_ , it seemed to say now. And Bilbo didn’t need any more persuasion.

* * *

“Can she come back? Can you bring my wife back?” Thranduil asked, looking down at the ground, while he touched the statue’s hand with reverence.

Bilbo watched mesmerized as the Arkenstone shone its rays towards the trees. It surely would have been difficult to look away even without the Elvenking imposing on him to view this spectacle of light! Then he heard Thorin speak.

“It is saying that perhaps it can be done if someone were to take your wife’s place.”

“ _Willingly_ take her place?” Thranduil asked eagerly. “Or can I just arrange to send someone from my realm to the halls of Mandos?”

Thorin covered the Arkenstone with one hand in a delicate motion, as if to protect it from insult, and turned towards him in disbelief. “You would do that? You would arrange for a fellow elf to drop dead??”

“Well, not exactly,” said Thranduil. _Wow, h_ _e’s not even going to bother to pretend to be a nice guy_ , Bilbo thought. “Whenever the next battle presents itself, surely some are bound to die. I would do much to prevent it, of course. It’s just that, with the recent battle of Five Armies, I do wonder if I missed... an opportunity.”

Bilbo felt as if a snake was creeping on his skin. Out of everything that his adventure with the dwarves had brought him, this had got to be the most eerie experience so far!

Thorin uncovered the Arkenstone and searched for its message with his eyes; yet none was present.

“It seems it is below it to answer your question. Perhaps you’d like to rephrase?”

Thranduil shot a look at Bilbo, who immediately confirmed. “There’s nothing! No answer.”

The Elvenking sighed with disappointment. “Very well. How about bringing her back for just an hour?”

There was an answer this time. “It says that can be done, but after the hour is passed you will need to let the Arkenstone go back to its home,” said Thorin.

Thranduil pondered gravely. “If I let the Arkenstone go, then Mister Baggins stays here.”

Now the Arkenstone shone its light, and Bilbo looked in the direction of its rays. There was a message there, yet Thorin was silent, and Bilbo could perceive anger on his face. _It doesn’t sound good_ , he thought, resisting the urge to rack his brain and try to understand the message; it was bliss to perhaps not know enough Khuzdul to make it out. And yet... _maybe my understanding would be of some help to Thorin_.

“Then Mister Baggins stays here,” Thranduil repeated. “Does the Arkenstone have anything to say to that?”

“It does,” said Thorin, his voice sinking. “It says _That is not my concern_.”

“Ah. Nice,” said Thranduil, looking most pleased. “I knew this jewel would fit well into my kingdom, even if it may be just for a few weeks.”

“Well it is _my_ concern!” Bilbo wondered if Thorin’s roar was directed at the Elvenking or at the Arkenstone, while Thranduil continued unperturbed, “How about bringing her back for two hours?”

“You’re pushing your luck, elf king,” said Thorin menacingly. “The Arkenstone has favored you with its grace, bestowing onto you something precious beyond measure. Yet you’re belittling its gift, haggling with it as if you were selling trinkets at the marketplace!”

“Again, the Arkenstone gives no answer,” said Bilbo nervously, starting to fear for Thorin’s state of mind. “Perhaps we should resume this... meeting another time?”

Thranduil looked deep in thought, all of a sudden back to being nice and polite. “I would use it to see my wife for an hour, and then give it back to you, King Thorin. Yet I’d keep Mister Baggins here after that. Do you think we can reach some sort of agreement?”

“I don’t wish to stay here!” Bilbo cut in impatiently, already knowing what Thorin was going to say, and glad for once that he was present.

“You heard him,” said Thorin. “So you can either use the Arkenstone to get your hour with your wife and then let us _all_ take it back when we’re ready to go home, or you can keep it longer until you find another way to use it. If your plan is to keep Master Baggins here by force, my cousin Dain has an army that you are well familiar with-”

“No, no, no,” Bilbo said urgently. “Surely we can resolve this without violence.”

“Indeed, I believe we can,” Thranduil nodded gracefully, and it seemed to Bilbo that he had already concocted a plan in his mind. With that, the Elvenking left the garden with slow movements, his shoulders raised in triumph.

Bilbo watched him go. _Unbelievable how he can glide from one state to another_ _._ _T_ _o think that last night he apparently was clingy and desperate_ _!_ and then turned to Thorin, who was staring dreamily at the sky filled with stars.

“He’s... not easy to talk to, is he?” Bilbo said, wondering if it was at all possible for Thorin to take any of this lightly.

Thorin moved towards him and spoke calmly. “Let’s stay here longer, Master Baggins. Let’s talk to the Arkenstone some more.”

“It seems pretty knowledgeable and... discerning,” Bilbo observed.

“Very discerning,” Thorin echoed proudly. “And the elf believes it has integrated well into his environment. Which makes me think... while we’re here, it wouldn’t kill me to learn a few flower names.”

Bilbo smiled in astonished approval, and they turned to face the statue holding the jewel, taking in the silence in her eyes. And they sat on the ground side by side, enfolded in the stillness of the night.

“In a manner of speaking I just want to say

That I could never forget the way

You told me everything

By saying nothing

In a manner of speaking I don’t understand

How love in silence becomes reprimand

But the way I feel about you is beyond words

In a manner of speaking semantics won’t do

In this life that we live we only make do

And the way that we feel might have to be sacrificed

So in a manner of speaking I just want to say

That like you, I should find a way

To tell you everything

By saying nothing

Oh, give me the words

Give me the words

That tell me nothing

Oh, give me the words

Give me the words

That tell me everything”

Martin L. Gore, _In A Manner of Speaking_

(written by Winston Tong)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All Khuzdul is from [www.dwarrowscholar.com](https://www.dwarrowscholar.com)


	15. I Put A Spell on You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thranduil creates a special kind of wine, which he invites Bilbo to drink. Bilbo is tempted to use the wine to his advantage in a sticky situation.

It had now been a month of living in the Woodland Realm, and as the two young Durins were well on their way to a full recovery, Thorin began to think about going home.

Since Thranduil had not brought up Bilbo or the Arkenstone since their meeting in the garden, Thorin assumed that the Elvenking was going to keep the stone longer and try to experiment with it further. Perhaps Elrond could be persuaded to help with translations, since he was well-versed in runes... but this was not Thorin’s concern.

Fili and Kili continued snooping around the halls trying to collect important information, and soon learned that Thranduil was pulling all the stops in his effort to create a truly special brand of wine. Details were scarce as to what he would use this wine for, or what properties it would have to have, but it was clear that he was targeting something big, since he himself was no longer enough as a testing subject. He was now testing different wine combinations on willing inhabitants of the Woodland Realm, and that resulted in a good few Elves plastered on the floor, in need of some medical attention. When this reached Bilbo and Thorin’s ears, they feared the Elvenking was really trying to send someone to the halls of Mandos so he could get his wife back. However, Tauriel and Legolas, who were watching over the state of said Elves, assured them that it was nothing serious; the wine was harmless and the Elves in question were just a particular brand of woozy.

Since the healing chamber was not nearly empty anymore, Thorin’s room, the largest of all guest rooms, became the place for the Company’s gatherings. That is where they were now, making plans for departure and discussing their last days in Mirkwood.

“So, Thranduil has encouraged more people to sign up for testing different kinds of wine,” Fili reported.

“Apparently he supervises the sampling closely. He brings the subjects to the throne room and watches the effects of the drink on them himself,” Kili added.

“I wonder what he’s looking for,” said Bilbo with great apprehension.

Balin stepped in eagerly. “Well. If I may be permitted to guess, it’s obviously an elixir meant to heighten the senses. The Elvenking is going to take the Arkenstone’s offer to bring his wife back for an hour before we leave. One cannot blame him for wanting to be fully prepared to have the most pleasurable experience possible with his beloved,” he uttered very articulately, as if there could be no other explanation.

“I’d say he’s not doing a good job so far,” said Fili. “If all we see are elves passed out in the halls... that’s nothing special. It was like this the last time we were here, as I recall.”

“Perhaps he saves the best samples for himself,” said Dwalin. “Getting high every night. That’s why we barely see him at dinner anymore.”

“Hmm. An elf getting high,” said Thorin skeptically. “I don’t think it’s that easy for them. Needless to say, everyone,” he eyed them with a no-nonsense look, “you are to stay away from _any_ sort of wine the elves may offer. We have but a few days left; for those of you who are inclined towards the drink, make an effort to abstain. For those of you who are _curious_ ” - he looked sharply at Fili and Kili - “This is not a good time to try new things. There is a time and a place for everything, and it’s called Erebor, whenever it is fully restored. As for you...” - his tone softened as he looked at Bilbo - “I don’t think any words are necessary.”

“No,” Bilbo said, though his mind was far from being in perfect agreement. All throughout this meeting, he had been thinking.

_Stay close to me at all times, and I will stay close to you_ , Thorin had said to him after their last meeting with the Elvenking, in the garden. _Together we are strong against him. If he finds one of us without the other, he may be able to manipulate our minds. We have to be careful_. Bilbo agreed, though all this staying close to Thorin was making him want more and more of him, in ways that he wasn’t sure were... acceptable. Thorin was so attentive towards him, always asking about his needs and eager to comfort him, and all the protectiveness he offered, combined with their Khuzdul sessions, which seemed like such a special, intimate experience Bilbo had grown to crave... all of this Bilbo found very attractive, and he felt like he couldn’t take much more of it without knowing something for certain. Out of caution, he had planned on waiting, but this was tantamount to torture!

_Yet_ how _can I tell you how I feel?_ he considered as he addressed his love in the secrecy of his mind. _How, without the risk of being rejected? Oh, Thorin, I would not want to cause any awkwardness in our friendship, or lose it altogether! Yet that may happen if I blurt out my feelings and you’re not ready to reciprocate, or talk about them... I can’t lose you, Thorin, even if all we can have is friendship_.

That is when a thought inserted itself into his mind. _The wine. I could drink some of Thranduil’s special wine; then I could try to get Thorin alone (which is not difficult these days); then I could confess my feelings to him. If he reciprocates them, I will be in heaven. If he doesn’t, I’ll blame it on the wine; I’ll tell him it was probably something like an elixir of love, that would have been just as effective with Dwalin, or Balin_ _..._ _whichever person I happened to run into. And hopefully he’ll understand and look past it. This way I don’t have to worry about creating a rift between us._

But Thorin did not want him anywhere near Thranduil or his wine. And Bilbo did not want to disrespect Thorin’s wishes. So he resolved he wasn’t going to ask for the wine or look for an opportunity to try it. If the wine presented itself... that was another story.

Present itself it did, for the next day, Fili and Kili came to him to report that Thranduil had finally obtained the exact combination he was looking for, tested it repeatedly and declared himself pleased. They also carried a message for Bilbo: tonight, at dinner, Thranduil was going to offer Bilbo the special drink. “Did he say what it’s for?” Bilbo insisted. “No, he didn’t,” Fili replied. “But Balin is probably right; what else can it be, other than a drink meant to exalt the senses so the person can get maximum pleasure with his loved one?”

“Well,” Bilbo said, “I’m not sure Thranduil needs that. He missed his wife so much, he doesn’t need any sort of aid for his happy sensations when he sees her. Plus, we don’t know if he’s really going to get her back for an hour. He may decide to keep the Arkenstone here and study it further.”

“I envy you, Bilbo,” Kili sighed. “I for one would love to try it. Things have not progressed much between Tauriel and me, to be honest. She’s always busy, I’m still recovering, and it’s not easy to do anything under Uncle’s eagle eyes. What I would give for a special night with her.”

Fili chimed in with some words of wisdom. “Speaking of, I know someone who needs it more than Bilbo, and even more than you, Kili.” Kili gave a big grin of agreement. “Bilbo, a word of advice. If you do taste the wine, please take pity on Uncle and share it with him.”

“Or even better, give him your glass altogether,” Kili suggested, and both brothers chuckled and left Bilbo to his own devices.

Despite reacting with a frown, the thought kept playing in Bilbo’s mind, an elixir that heightens the senses, _how I would like that, it is one chance, after that we leave this place and that is it, I won’t have a better_ _opportunity_ _to tell Thorin I love him once we get to Erebor and I’m surrounded by busy dwarves_ _!_ _E_ _ven if Thorin does not feel the same_ _,_ _perhaps he could try the drink too and we can have some fun for one night... a night which I sure will never forget_.

_You have changed, Bilbo Baggins_ , he chided himself. _What is wrong with you?_

_This_ _place_ _is to blame. I don’t feel like myself here. Sometimes I have thoughts that are not fully my own. I don’t know where they come from..._

Yet one thing he did know for sure is that he was tired of being torn.

He had been torn on whether to give Thorin the Arkenstone after taking it from Smaug.

Torn again when Thorin was lying at death’s door and he didn’t know what would be acceptable to say to him; what he should _feel_ for him.

Torn whether to tell Thorin that the Arkenstone could grow dead plants overnight, for fear this would make his madness return.

Torn again, on whether to use Thorin’s beloved language that night in the garden, under Thranduil’s eye. It had been such a difficult moment! He had wanted to read the Arkenstone’s runes in order to try to diffuse Thorin’s anger; yet reading them meant exposing them to Thranduil, who could be peering into his mind at any time. Thankfully, Thorin handled the situation excellently. _Yet I... I was torn once again, and a lot of good that did me.._.

What Bilbo disliked most about some of those instances was that they put in question his loyalty to Thorin. And his _honesty_.

_Honesty_. As soon as the word formed in his mind, he involuntarily looked at the place in his coat where a certain object was hidden.

_And perhaps more than anything... during this adventure I was torn... a few times... on whether I should use this ring or not._

A feeling of loneliness came over him. He longed for certainty. He longed for _home_. What did he have here, in Mirkwood? So far away from the Shire, in an unfriendly environment, with a host that changed on a whim, with little sun and warmth...?

_And what will I have in Erebor? It will be worse; Thorin will be busier than I’ve ever seen him. He may forget about me. And that’s the best case scenario. Worst case, he’ll succumb to the madness again._

He sighed and reached for the acorn in his coat pocket to examine it one more time, and remembered how Thorin had said _Plant your trees, watch them grow_ as he was bidding him farewell. He had looked at Thorin incredulously. _Do you know what this acorn means to me, Thorin? Clearly not. If you did, you would also know that I can’t do this without you_. And yet he had still given Thorin an imperceptible nod, as if he would try...

_My love for_ _him_ _. This is what this acorn means to me. I picked it up in Beorn’s garden. Yes, I do believe that is when I... started falling in love with_ _him;_ _a_ _fter the Carrock. I_ want _to plant my tree and watch it grow. But it needs... well, it needs some help_. _I am lucky that Thorin didn’t die; or else I would_ _be_ _faced with something impossible. But, the Valar be blessed, my love is right here. Yet I still can’t grow it the way I want._

_My love... How long before I can call_ _him_ _that?_

_I can’t ask this of Thorin. To deliver me from being torn_ _; to be my certainty, to be my home_ _._ _To do more for me than he is already doing._ _Unless he_ wants _to_.

And suddenly he knew: he had to do something, even if it partially meant going against Thorin’s wishes. He had to find out where the two of them stood. And the only way to know was for him to make the first move, as clearly Thorin wasn’t going to make one! So he decided he was going to ask him openly about trying the wine. _I don’t have to do this behind his back. Instead I will be honest and simply ask_ _Thorin_ _to let me have one glass. If he says no, I’ll just drop it; but I have to try_.

That evening at dinner, Thranduil came over to Thorin and Bilbo’s table, bringing two glasses of wine with him. “For my honored guests,” he said in a sugary voice. “You’d make me a happy elf if you tried it. I’ve been working on it tirelessly these past few weeks. I daresay I’m pleased with the result. I have been inspired by the latest events - some of them bordering on the supernatural - to try to create something special. I wish to part with both of you in friendship and gratitude, and this is the best I can offer.”

It was hard to decline, Bilbo found. If nothing else, his manners dictated he should at least pretend to be interested. Then Thranduil leaned closer to Bilbo and whispered, “The wine in _your_ glass is even more... special. More potent. Do not be afraid to try it,” and gave Bilbo a _you can trust me_ look. Then he went back to his seat, and Bilbo was left with the glass in front of him and with the urge to drink, imagination running wild as to how the wine might help him speak eloquently to Thorin about his feelings.

“Thorin,” he said, carefully shifting his gaze between the dwarf and the wine, “it is perhaps rude not to try the drink offered by our host.”

“Do you _want_ to try it?” Thorin asked simply.

“I do, very much. I am so curious to see its effects. I was going to ask you to let me try it. I know you’re against it, but... One cannot deny that our host has excellent taste in wine, or so I heard the guards say... last time we were here.”

“I can hardly refuse you anything, Master Baggins, but I’m really opposed to this. We don’t know what this elf is trying to achieve, and it may very well involve one of us. He wants you to stay here; I fear that this wine is a trap.”

“So what are you suggesting? That we leave the glasses untouched?”

“Precisely,” said Thorin, unmoved.

“How about we each have just a sip? Just to show our host that we’re drinking. That way we won’t look rude. Then we can excuse ourselves from the table and take the drink to our rooms, and say we want to consume it there. And once there, we throw it down the drain.”

“Are you sure about this? This is not my way of doing things.”

“Yes, Thorin. I want to try it. And... I wouldn’t mind it if you tried it with me.” He smiled at Thorin shyly, as if he was asking him out on a first date. This had an immediate effect, for Thorin looked smitten and acquiesced promptly.

“Very well. We’ll do it your way. But just one sip, Master Baggins.”

“Thank you, Thorin,” Bilbo murmured, trying to look somewhat composed and not betray that deep inside he was preparing himself for the possibility of heavenly bliss.

And they each had a sip, right at a moment when the Elvenking was looking at them, and ate their dinner, which seemed tastier than ever. They both declared the wine to be quite exquisite, and Bilbo felt all the hope and anticipation of good things to come. Then he noticed something. After said sip, Thorin seemed considerably more relaxed than earlier, and the loving gaze directed at Bilbo was unmistakable. Yet that was nothing compared to hearing Thorin speak.

“Bilbo... sometimes I find myself wondering... why I keep denying you things. When all I want is to fulfill your every wish.”

“You haven’t denied me anything.”

“You said you wanted to drink the wine. I want you to enjoy it to the fullest, Bilbo. Please, drink it all, but stay close to me. Don’t go anywhere near that elf, and it should all be fine.”

“Of course, Thorin. Where am I going to go?”

“And I’ll tell you something else. You said you wouldn’t mind if I drank, too. I see now that I have been too close-minded. It should be so easy to at least _try_ to make you happy, yet I always seem to throw obstacles in my own way. Of course I’m going to drink with you.”

Happy that Thorin was all right with both of them drinking, though also perplexed by the sudden change, Bilbo did not wait to be told twice. _Oh, Thorin_ , he thought, _a few more_ _shot_ _s_ _of this wine and I’ll be able to tell you how I feel. You cannot know how long I’ve waited_.

It wasn’t actually that long, was it? Yet it felt long. It felt like a thousand lifetimes.

As he drank, however, Bilbo couldn’t detect any change in his state of mind. The wine seemed nothing out of the ordinary, certainly nothing that would heighten the senses or induce someone to loosen their tongue. However, across the table from him something _was_ happening. The more they drank, the more relaxed Thorin seemed to be, and the more eager to offer Bilbo the moon. _Is there anything else you’d like? Can I brin_ _g_ _you some more food? How about a walk in the garden after dinner?_ which made Bilbo wonder what exactly this wine was supposed to do and why it was acting only on Thorin and not on him...

“Was the wine to your liking, Bilbo?” Thorin asked after they finished drinking, a wide grin spread on his face.

“I... yes, it was.”

“Would you like another one?”

“Another... drink?” _Hmm. That is weird. I thought he wanted me to stay away from the wine. I sure couldn’t say no to another glass; I can only hope the next one will have more of an effect._

_Why can’t you just say what you want to say to Thorin and be done with it?_ a more practical voice demanded.

_Because if_ _I tell him I love him and_ _he doesn’t feel the same way, I plan on blaming it on the wine. Yet I know that my wine is not... special. So I can’t legitimately blame anything on it. I would be lying to Thorin. I. Can’t. Lie. To. Him. Again._

“I would love another one, but I’m not sure how to get it, other than ask Thranduil in person,” Bilbo said, feeling a bit dejected after feeling hopeful.

“That’s all right,” said Thorin aimably. “I’ll go ask him myself. It will be my pleasure to bring you another glass.”

“Thorin, no. You shouldn’t go near him; he may taunt you again. I don’t want him to ruin your evening. Let me go,” Bilbo said, thinking of how Thorin may react to Thranduil under the wine’s influence. At least he, Bilbo, was still sober!

“If that is your wish,” said Thorin, once again with unexpected calmness.

Sober or not, this would have been a good moment for Bilbo to take a close look at the change in Thorin, as surely the latter would not have allowed him to move in Thranduil’s direction unaccompanied. Unfortunately, instead of continuing to ponder, Bilbo was eager to go and get another drink. This was the perfect time, Thorin seemed to be in a great mood, the stars had finally aligned! So he all but ran to Thranduil who was seated at the head of the table, and asked if he may have another glass of wine.

“Certainly,” said Thranduil. “The wine I offered you is from my personal stash, which I keep in my throne room. Why don’t we go there now and get you some more.”

Bilbo looked undecided. _I can go with him_ , he thought to himself, _get the drink and be right back_. He looked towards Thorin and gestured to him that he needed to go with Thranduil, and Thorin responded with a grin and gestured back something like _No hurry, take your time_. So Bilbo went, a bit uneasy but determined to get the desired drink.

Once they got to the throne room, Thranduil poured him a glass, and once again, motivated by rules of politeness, Bilbo drank a sip right away before saying, “Now can we go back to the dining hall?”

“How about enjoying the wine with me?” Thranduil asked.

“Oh. I suppose Thorin and I can sit with you at the table,” said Bilbo. “I always hoped that the three of us could be friends.”

“I meant drink it here, just the two of us,” said Thranduil, pouring himself a glass.

“Oh.”

Thranduil moved towards him. “Don’t be frightened, Halfling. Try it. It won’t harm you; _I_ won’t harm you. Please, sit down.”

“What do you want from me?” Bilbo asked, feeling very uncomfortable.

“I’d like to talk to you,” said Thranduil. “While we both enjoy our wine.”

“Speaking of that, the wine you gave me wasn’t that... potent. I honestly didn’t feel any difference from regular wine. Though I must admit, it was delicious.”

“This one here is _very_ potent,” Thranduil reassured him. “There must have been a mix-up earlier. It’s possible King Thorin wound up with the glass meant for you.”

“Oh.” Bilbo thought of how easy-going Thorin was at the dinner table; no doubt, under the influence of that special wine! Things certainly looked promising with that particular Thorin; who could blame Bilbo for wanting to catch up? “Thank you, King Thranduil, I’m happy to drink this. You are most generous. Now what did you want to talk about?” he said, finally settling down into an armchair.

As he did, it occurred to him that he sometimes _liked_ being in the Elvenking’s company. Thranduil was not all bad, and in some respects Bilbo was feeling really lonely in the Woodland Realm. He wished he had someone to talk to about his feelings, and about being torn all the time, and Thranduil seemed very bright and perceptive, if only he wasn’t such a... Bilbo decided to stop his string of thoughts there, and hoped that he would not regret this conversation.

“Finally,” said Thranduil with satisfaction. “I get to have my answers. Let’s start at the beginning. What is it about you that makes you so valuable?”

“I was not aware that I was,” said Bilbo.

“Well. This shirt you’re wearing,” the Elvenking pointed to Bilbo’s mithril, “is made of the rarest and most precious material in Middle Earth. This is not something to be given away lightly, especially by a Dwarf. They are obsessed with precious metals. Yet King Thorin saw fit to gift it to you. And I don’t even think you _needed_ it...” he said, scrutinizing Bilbo carefully. “You were already protected. So, why did he give it to you?”

Bilbo shrugged. “I’m sure it had to do with the battle.”

“I don’t think so, Halfling. I imagine it was more like a thank-you gift for something you may have accomplished for him. But to move on... the Arkenstone. First, you were able to take it from Smaug. How? If that dragon had wanted to, he would have turned you into a pile of ash before you even had a chance to get close to the jewel. There must be something you said to him, or more likely did... something that no one else could come up with. And then, you kept the Arkenstone on you, and hid it from your king. That was disloyal enough in itself, but then you gave it to me and Bard, which is nothing short of high treason. I can assure you, if someone directed such an offense at me, they would be banished without any chance for recourse. And yet, your king forgave you almost immediately. Why?”

“I don’t know about the _almost immediately_ part. How could you even tell such a thing?”

“I live and breathe, Mister Baggins. If you ask me, he forgave you right then and there, even as you were descending from the rampart to join us. The question is, why?”

“He... You know, you make a good point. I don’t know why he forgave me.”

“There’s no doubt in my mind it’s because there’s something about you. Something I have not yet perceived in the light of day. If King Thorin values you so - just the other day he said he’d summon his cousin’s army _just_ to get you out of here - that can only mean that there is good in you beyond anything that he, at least, has ever seen.”

“Or perhaps he’s just being a good friend,” Bilbo offered humbly.

Thranduil smiled generously. “This is what I like about you, Halfling. This air of innocence you have about you. You lighten up even the darkest of hearts; and certainly the heart of a tired and bored elf like myself. But I digress. Let’s talk about how the dwarf king was brought back to life. You had something to do with it, no doubt.”

“No. Not at all,” Bilbo said, and now, just as he gulped a good helping of wine, he began to see something very clearly. He found it very, very easy to lie. In his heart of hearts he felt he must have had something to do with the fact that Thorin had not died. Yet his response to Thranduil was the opposite. It wasn’t just because he was wary in the Elvenking’s presence. There was more: he _felt compelled_ to lie, to lie for the sake of lying!

“Which translates to _yes_ , I’m afraid. I _know_ you’re lying. Tell me how you did it.”

“I had nothing to do with it.”

“And there’s one more piece of the puzzle. You carry something that makes you invisible, do you not?”

Bilbo choked on his wine. _Now_ the Elvenking was overstepping. “I carry nothing.”

“Mmm. Another _yes_. Very good, Mister Baggins. It must be something very light, that you can carry with you at all times, in your pocket most likely. And if I were to venture a guess, it is with the help of this object that you brought your king back to life.”

Bilbo felt compelled to say _yes!_ just for the sake of lying again. _Yet if I lie, Thranduil will want th_ _e_ _ring for himself. I can’t have that. The ring is mine._

“No!” he said, marveling at the urgency of his reaction.

“Which is another _yes_ ,” said Thranduil, not aware that for once he was wrong. “I know every answer you’re giving me is a lie. You see, this drink is made to enhance a particular weakness in each person; their greatest weakness. And yours, Halfling, is your inclination for dishonesty. You find it easy to lie. You weren’t always like this, I believe. I can’t imagine such a tendency being developed in a place like the Shire. It is during your adventure with the dwarves that you must have acquired experience with lying and hiding, and now you can’t stop.”

“And you wanted me to drink so I can be more dishonest? Why?” Bilbo asked in deep confusion.

“To protect you,” said Thranduil. “You wanted to confess your feelings for the dwarf. You love him, it is plain as day. My drink will keep you from making such a mistake.”

“A mistake?” Bilbo asked doubtfully, a river of sadness pouring in his heart, yet he tried to hide it with a nonchalant smile. “Perhaps you’re right.”

“Yes, a mistake, because he doesn’t love you. He certainly values you as his greatest treasure. But he doesn’t love you.”

“And you know this... how?”

“If he does, why does he never tell you? Why do you have to resort to a wine scheme in order to try to say something to _him_? He was at death’s door, and beyond. If he loved you, one would think that as soon as he’d come back he’d want to declare his feelings for you. No, he keeps you around because he has seen your great worth, and no doubt used it for his own advantage once or twice. You will make a great asset in his kingdom, especially since, save for the incident with the Arkenstone, you appear to be incapable of saying no to him.”

_Oh_. Bilbo had not thought about that. That made sense, for sure! Wow, what a fool he had been.

“Such worth,” Thranduil repeated. “If there is such value in you, I want it here, in my kingdom. I can’t put my finger on what it is, though.” Bilbo widened his eyes with fear at the way Thranduil said those last words. “Actually... I think I can. Put _it_ on my finger.”

Bilbo did not hesitate. He reached into his coat pocket, felt the Ring on his fingers, and put it on just as Thranduil signalled his guards to seize him.

They didn’t reach him in time. He disappeared, and fled in horror as he heard Thranduil’s voice trailing behind him, _I know where you are! You can’t hide from me!_ And for the first time in Mirkwood, the thought of Thorin did not bring him reassurance that everything would be fine in the end.

“Under your spell again

I can’t say no to you

Crave my heart and it’s bleeding in your hand

I can’t say no to you

Shouldn’t have let you torture me so sweetly

Now I can’t let go of this dream

I can’t breathe but I feel

Good enough

I feel good enough

For you

Drink up sweet decadence

I can’t say no to you

And I’ve completely lost myself and I don’t mind

I can’t say no to you

Shouldn’t have let you conquer me completely

Now I can’t let go of this dream

Can’t believe that I feel

Good enough

I feel good enough

It’s been such a long time coming

But I feel good

And I’m still waiting for the rain to fall

Pour real life down on me

’cause I can’t hold on

To anything this good enough

Am I good enough

For you to love me too?

So take care what you ask of me

’cause I can’t say no”

(Evanescence, _Good Enough_ )


	16. Feel The Outside Turning In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary: Bilbo and Thorin attempt to express their feelings while evil forces whirl around them. This chapter alternates frequently between the two POVs; these switches are marked by * * *.

“Wild wine - before your palace

Wild wine - I am ready

Arrival is announced - only for the king

God be with me - and open your gates

Wild wine - and so slowly

Wild wine - so warm and wet

Wild wine - before your lap

Wild wine - it is written

Deep waters ought - not to be crossed

Yet my desire - derides the wings

Wild wine - like a dove

Wild wine - so wet and hot

Wild wine - before this darkness

Wild wine - healed by the light

It stays hidden - or else we could fight back

I wait for you at the end of the night

Wild wine - just one grape

Wild wine - and bitter as snow

I wait for you at the end of the night”

Rammstein, _Wilder Wein_ (translated from German)

It had not been that long.

Bilbo had left with Thranduil, and Fili and Kili had asked Thorin to accompany them to their room. So the three had left the dining hall, had a brief _check-out-this-funny-nonsense_ chat (which solidified Thorin’s suspicion that his nephews were set on trying to cheer him up), and Thorin was now in his room, alone, wondering.

He didn’t need any cheering up. All in all it had been a nice evening. He was ecstatic at the thought that he had conquered his reservations over Thranduil and his wine and agreed to drink with Bilbo. While not terribly interested in the wine’s effects, he did notice he was even more disposed to satisfy whatever desire Bilbo had; which, he thought, was not a bad thing. What he didn’t realize was that he had lost all discernment in the process. Tonight, Bilbo just had to say the word; if he wanted to have a good time - even with Thranduil, of all people - Thorin would not stand in his way.

So he occupied himself with the harp for a short while, determined that if Bilbo did not show up soon, he’d go with Dwalin to look for him. Until then, he could get lost in this instrument that seemed to be made for him, bulky and sturdy on the outside, enclosing its airy and delicate strings, a perfect blend of hardness and softness.

It was in the middle of the third song, his head bowed down, immersed in playing and listening at the same time, that he heard the sound of the door opening. He stood and looked; the door was closed, and no one was in the room.

He sat back down and continued playing, and as he looked through the harp’s strings he saw a smoky, shadowy figure standing at the door to his room, shaking. Outside the figure was light, surrounding it like a halo. And the shadowy part swirled in the air and called to him, _Do you want... to see?_ and Thorin was startled and felt afraid at the sight. And in that moment, almost as if guided by the figure, he began to play a new song, something he had been trying to write while here in Mirkwood, at night, alone in his room, as he contemplated the possibility of going to the room next door to see the one person his heart craved so completely. To watch him sleep, to hear him breathe, to hold him as he had done when they were in the healing room, and to not leave until the morning...

The song did not have any words. Thorin was not good with words; but the music flowed straight out of his heart, trying to reach out to his love. And as Thorin continued to play and behold the figure through the harp’s strings, the figure began to sing as if it knew the words, though they had not yet been written. The words were addressed directly to Thorin, speaking of something that was happening right there, in that moment; of wanting to be seen and heard, and of feeling alone and terrified. The singing voice sounded somewhat reproachful; it seemed dissatisfied that Thorin didn’t have the courage to _know_ something.

And now the light and shadow changed places, and the figure was light on the inside and shadow on the outside. Seeing the light enclosed in a contour of shadow, Thorin marveled at its radiance. _It’s... it must be his... his_ _ **soul**_ , Thorin wanted to say. _There is nothing else that could match this beautiful glow_. Yet the light he was seeing now had been outside the figure moments before, and Thorin trembled at the thought that someone may have _pushed_ it outside, allowing evil to penetrate within...

“How did you know the lyrics to this song?” he asked when the music was over. He could still see Bilbo’s silhouette through the strings.

“I wrote them. Your room is adjacent to mine. I could hear you play bits and pieces of this at night, and...”

_How could you write about something that is only happening now?_

“Bilbo...” Thorin said with great emotion, “can I help you take off your ring? You’re safe here with me. You don’t need to wear it.”

“Don’t touch it!” he heard Bilbo shriek.

“I won’t,” he said with surprise. He hadn’t thought Bilbo so possessive of his ring. Had he always been this way? And now Thorin couldn’t see the light and shadow anymore. Yet he knew Bilbo still stood at the door, just like he had when he had entered the healing tent on the morning of Thorin’s waking.

“Come here,” he had said then... and as he felt Bilbo move towards him, Thorin put the harp away and stood to meet him.

“Bilbo, you’re shaking...”

“How can you tell?” Bilbo didn’t have a chance to hear an answer or say any more, because Thorin pulled him close and held him tightly, pressing Bilbo’s face to his shoulder.

“Shhh... you’re with me. It’s all right.”

But Bilbo seemed to be of a different mind, and Thorin could feel his fear. “We need to leave.”

“Leave? Bilbo... Did that elf do something to you? Tell me at once.”

“No. He did nothing.”

“Are you all right?”

“Yes, I’m fine.” Bilbo seemed very impatient now. “We need to leave. Now.”

“Can it wait until the morning?” Thorin asked, his voice soft and loving. Bilbo was silent, and Thorin felt his shaking increase in his arms.

“If that is your wish,” said Thorin. “You’re not going to tell me why?”

Bilbo was silent again, and Thorin let go of him, feeling every urge to take his sword in one hand and Bilbo’s hand in the other and run out the door. His mind struggled frantically to resist this temptation - it was night, they had no food, his kin were still sleeping, where were they going to go? but Bilbo’s wishes ruled him relentlessly on this night. So there was nothing to do but acquiesce; yet before resolving to leave, he thought of one more thing to ask.

* * *

“Is there anything else you want? Anything else I can do?”

...Bilbo had gone to Thorin’s room, and found him there, playing the harp. He seemed like he had strayed into a dream. And Bilbo dived with him in a place of smoke and shadows, and it had felt like their souls passed each other by, touching for a fleeting moment; like two _worlds_ colliding...

But even at the sight of him, Bilbo’s heart could not calm. There was no light in his vision, just emptiness and shadow, and he felt himself spinning. And still he could not take off the ring, so afraid he was he would lose it.

As he heard Thorin’s question, Bilbo found himself wanting to cast away the doubt that Thranduil had planted: that Thorin didn’t love him. Oh, to even contemplate that! _This is why... This is why I didn’t ask for this to begin with!_ his whole being screamed in anguish. _Yes! Of course there is something you can do! You can tell me how you feel about me! I want to know if Thranduil was right_.

But his mouth didn’t cooperate. “No. Nothing.”

“Are you sure?”

 _I want you to tell me that you love me. And I want it to be_ _ **true**_ , he wished stubbornly, arrogantly even, raising a frown as he thought of the Elvenking’s smug face once more.

“I’m sure.”

Thorin looked at him doubtfully.

 _And I wanted to tell you that I love you_. _I still want to, but... maybe there is something I want more right now_ , he finished, seeking the ring to reassure it was still on his finger. _**No one**_ _can take this from me_.

Yet Bilbo could say none of this. And he knew what was happening to him; the Elvenking had been a little too upfront about the wine’s potent influence. The only time he could make a true statement was when he worried about the ring being taken from him. Yet there may be other ways to get to the truth, if _truth_ was what he wanted. Perhaps the wine would not forbid him from asking a few questions.

“Is this why you value me, Thorin?” he started as he watched how Thorin started packing in a trance. “Because of the powers of this ring?”

Thorin turned towards him with new surprise. “No, Bilbo. Not at all.”

“Why would you summon Dain’s army just so I could go to Erebor with you?”

“You’re part of my Company. I would do the same for any other member. All of you are worth everything to me. You’re the only ones who followed me...” Thorin tried, and Bilbo wondered if it was the whole truth or maybe for once he and Thorin were switching roles. Surely not, though. He couldn’t imagine Thorin being any good at speaking half-truths.

“Is this why you forgave me after I took your Arkenstone? Because of your continued need for my services, which I can provide with the help of this ring?”

“Of course not,” Thorin said, his tone now one of pain and horror.

“Then why?”

“I forgave you because I was the one at fault. I was too blind to see, when all you did was try to wake me up from my madness. Bilbo, where is this coming from?”

“But I stole your precious jewel. I gave it to your enemies. And look where it is now. How could you forgive me? Oh, and give me _the truth_ , Thorin,” he said firmly.

“I left you no choice,” Thorin answered rapidly, clearly wishing to end this subject. “You did the best you could in the circumstances.”

So Bilbo was left to stare at the only card he had left - the glowing armor that never left his body.

“Why did you give me the mithril?” he asked defiantly, feeling like a child who just won’t let go of something totally insignificant.

“Bilbo...”

“Tell me!”

“I can’t. Not now.”

“What if I wished to know _now_? What happened to _if that is your wish_?”

“You needed it for the battle,” said Thorin, his voice calm and even, not betraying any emotion.

“And that’s it? No other reason? You knew I could use this ring to protect myself, didn’t you? Wouldn’t someone else from your Company have benefitted more from such valuable armor? Seeing as how you want to protect them all?”

“Do you wish to know? _Do you?_ ” asked Thorin, all hope lost in his voice, a threat of anger looming over.

Bilbo was silent. It was either _no_ or silence, and he thanked his lucky stars that he could even conceive of the possibility of silence as he pulled himself with all his might from the urge to lie. He had not finished his mental match against Thranduil, and the frustration and terror the Elvenking had caused in him, the uncertainty about Thorin’s feelings for him and his inability to speak his mind were pushing him over the edge. He felt that he was grasping at straws and was about to lose it, any second now...

* * *

Thorin looked down. He wished to be in Erebor right now. If this was going to be a rejection, he could bear it there, inside those walls of stone. Even tainted by the presence of the dragon, the Mountain would hold him, steady him. _I’m going to ruin it all. I will scare him away. He will run... he might even choose to stay here. I have no right to say this, not when I haven’t offered him much and I’ve wronged him so_.

 _But let this be. Because he wants my answer._ And for some reason that he couldn’t quite grasp, tonight Thorin could not deny Bilbo anything.

This was not what Thorin wanted. He wanted to protect Bilbo, to hold him and soothe him, which he would gladly do in a situation like this. He had been so happy to do something infinitely meaningful like teaching Bilbo Khuzdul, something that wouldn’t harm this fragile person he had found so easy to hurt before. Something that was a deep part of himself, and that, like the mithril, spoke of his intentions in a secret, safe manner. Until he could offer Bilbo a _home_. A home full of his favorite things.

He could _feel_ Bilbo stand there before him, almost in an accusatory manner, much like he had been on the ramparts.

He remembered that day. It was strange, how upsetting that situation was, his mind darkening when he heard Bilbo’s voice, _The stone is real. I gave it to them_. The disbelief. The feeling of threat looming over him. Not the threat of battle, or that his cousin wouldn’t arrive in time. No, something darker; an evil he was not prepared to fight, compared to which the battle was almost a relief.

And yet, for some reason, he had felt so close, in that moment. So close to telling Bilbo he loved him. Maybe his tears already did. Maybe that’s why Bilbo had looked so surprised? Like he hadn’t expected he meant so much to Thorin. If the conditions had been different, maybe Thorin’s “confession” would have amounted to more, and met with a better reaction. But there could not have been a worse time. And things had gone to a very, very bad place, which, if anything, taught Thorin one thing: _Never again will I even dare to think of love_.

He didn’t know how to do this. Where to _be_. Whether to stand or to sit, or kneel. Or to hide, as Bilbo was able to now. He didn’t know whether to touch Bilbo’s hands, or to hold him, whether to look at him... how _could_ he look at him? And yet he had seen him. He had seen his soul just minutes before, part light, part shadow, when it should have been only light.

Maybe it was better that he couldn’t see Bilbo right now. Yet this ring... it was treacherous, Thorin knew. This was not the best time to say _I love you_. The ring could take his words and twist them around, and turn them into something vicious.

He looked one more time for a way to steady himself, and there was none. Then he beheld the words. There was beauty in them. They felt right. Only to be said to this person. His... he did not dare think further.

“I’m in love with you,” he heard the words shoot like stars made of ice, bouncing off the walls of the room and hitting the stone floor, _clink, clink, clink_ , and it felt like he had just handed himself over.

And there was only silence.

* * *

It’s strange. Bilbo hears the words, but it’s as if a force is trying to keep them from reaching him. The only way for Bilbo to truly hear them, to truly believe them, is for him to-

_I won’t take it off._

He doesn’t know how long it’s been since this silence. It seems, though, that the silence is not sitting perfectly well with Thorin.

“I didn’t think there was much of a chance you’d welcome these words. Yet it’s perhaps not such a bad thing to say them, just this once,” Bilbo hears him muse quietly, the smallest hint of sadness in Thorin’s voice. The words sound intolerably heartbreaking, and Bilbo will not have that.

“ _Just_ _once_? Thorin...”

Bilbo can already sense his words are blocked as if behind a wall between them. They’re not going to reach Thorin.

“...I would have you say this to me over and over.”

And now he begins wondering. He can’t say anything truthful. So how was he able to say these words? _Maybe I didn’t say them. Maybe I just thought them_.

He reaches and touches Thorin’s neck, and then his shoulder, his hand trembling with raw emotion. And he feels Thorin’s hand holding his arm tentatively, an insecure, still steadying gesture. Then he feels Thorin’s hand on his hair, the gentlest touch. _Truthful. I need to find a way to be_ _ **truthful**_. ****He thinks of Khuzdul, now _that_ is _truthful_ , a language that has helped him before. “ _Amrâlu akyâl-ê_ ,” he tries, but the words that have just named Thorin the love of his life don’t manage to penetrate the wall either. Thorin remains there, oblivious, running his fingers through Bilbo’s hair with delicate movements, as if he doesn’t want to break this precious moment or the person in it.

Bilbo feels the ring on his finger. Oh, normally he would take it off - nothing will get between him and the one he loves, not ever and certainly not now! But if he takes off the ring, Thranduil will find him. He cannot allow that. What’s worse, the spell in Thranduil’s wine is working in sync with the ring, and now he understands their terrible power. They urge him to hide from Thorin. They don’t allow him to express his feelings for him. Actually... they whisper to him to _deny_ his feelings; to act as if he never had them.

He reaches for the acorn in his pocket. Maybe the acorn is a secret talisman that can work its magic against the ring and Thranduil’s spell. He holds the acorn with the hand that wears the ring, and imagines a battle between good and evil, with the acorn winning against all odds. But reality has it upside down; he feels the ring burning his fingers, and it’s going to burn the acorn.

“I love you, Thorin,” he says, knowing Thorin cannot hear him, and places the acorn in his hand. Maybe Thorin understood what the acorn stands for when he showed it to him last time, in Erebor... But Thorin doesn’t look like he understands, and instead asks, “Where do you want this, my love?” and strangely, it is this, more than Thorin’s earlier words, that makes Bilbo want to smash the wall between them. He feels himself wanting more, wanting Thorin to say this over and over. The forces that are acting in and around him, however powerful, can’t dictate him to reject the love Thorin has revealed. He wants that, and he finds himself greedy, and impossible to stop in his desire to take it all.

He takes the acorn back and suddenly knows what to do. Not a question. A request? A demand, perhaps. Will Thorin understand that Bilbo is trying to say that he loves him too? Probably not. If he were to try to express those words, he might inadvertently hurt Thorin through the power of the ring. Will Thorin think he is being selfish and greedy, while hiding all along? Well... That is true, after all. _So let it be_.

 _Give me your love_. He thinks of their Khuzdul lessons and it’s the most intimate thing, to say these words his mind has put together in secret, to Thorin in Khuzdul. He begins to trace the runes on Thorin’s chest with the acorn, and it feels like he’s writing with fire. And the acorn _is_ burning Thorin; now there are holes in his shirt, and Bilbo gasps and withdraws his hand. But Thorin presses it back to his chest, softly whispering, _Tell me_ , and Bilbo manages to write the whole thing, _Ikhjim-ê amrâlizu_ before he drops the acorn to the floor-

...And the last rune touches the place of Thorin’s heart, and Bilbo feels something happening in his own heart, like a door opening _. Until Khuzdul enters_ _ **here**_ , he remembers Thorin’s words...

Then he looks at Thorin, terrified. Not terrified as he’d been of Smaug, or as he still is of the eerie and flaky Thranduil. A _different_ kind of terrified. That Thorin will pull out his sword at him because he said the wrong thing. Or because he _didn’t_ say what was needed.

“I don’t want anything to come between us,” he hears Thorin’s voice, soothing and loving, enfolding him with its warmth.

He feels Thorin’s hand on his. Thorin’s fingers find the ring. _Touch_ the ring. He startles at the touch and withdraws his hand, but Thorin grasps it again, very gently, and tries to take off the ring. Bilbo pushes him away without thinking, without wanting to, and now he is even more horrified. Thorin comes back and holds his hand again, more firmly this time. _I love you_ , he says, and then _Trust me_ , and touches the ring - _**my**_ _ring_ \- again. And Bilbo should fight this person who is standing between him and the ring. He pushes Thorin away again, with greater strength. And Thorin brings himself back again, and says _I want to_ _ **see**_ _you say that to me_ , and Bilbo can’t push him away after this. Thorin encloses his hand in both of his, and Bilbo can feel the ring _feeling threatened_. So instead he makes his hand into a fist, and the fist feels like it’s made of stone. Which is good: no one can get to the ring now...

* * *

Thorin has to say words. The right words that will induce Bilbo to take the ring off. And he’s not good with words. Commands, battle orders... nothing like that is needed now.

He tried to use them moments ago, but for some reason it’s not working. Maybe love is not what is needed; maybe Bilbo needs something else. Thorin thinks of the things that make Bilbo happy, that he wants to provide for him. There is an image, like a painting in Thorin’s mind, that contains all of those things. Only Thorin is missing from it. Thorin, one of the things that Bilbo indicated he likes.

He should _try_ to plant himself in Bilbo’s imagery. He should try to show Bilbo that he _wants_ to be an element of his happiness.

“You’re sitting on grass,” he begins, his arms finding their way around Bilbo once again. “And you’re leaning against a tree. The tree that you have planted... it has grown. And this tree is protecting you. It won’t let anything happen to you.” He pulls Bilbo in closer until he feels no more space between them. “You’re never alone, and you have nothing to fear. The tree’s branches and leaves surround you with strength, shielding you against all evil. And the sun... the sun is shining its light on your skin, warm and bright. Just as you like it. Just like the light that I have seen in... in your soul. My love... all that you have ever wanted is here.”

Thorin’s hand moves across Bilbo’s chest until it finds his heart, and it stays there as he focuses with his whole being.

“Let it in, Bilbo. _Îfil id-ulkhud ni_. Let the light in.”

...And the stone melts around Bilbo’s fist, and his hand opens. And now Thorin can feel Bilbo trying to take off his ring in a hurry, and it doesn’t seem to be working, for Bilbo’s fingers are struggling and Thorin can hear him breathe rapidly in panic.

“I know what you’re trying to do,” Thorin says softly, all his love and emotion hardly able to be contained. “But let me do it,” and his fingers reach for the ring again. “ _Îfil e amhul hû_ ”, and this time Bilbo lets him, and Thorin takes the ring off in one fast, determined motion. He feels the ring burn his palm, and instinctively drops it to the floor.

Then Thorin beholds his love, small and shaking and terrified, when he should have been in heavenly bliss. And what was burning passion in Thorin’s eyes seconds before stops dead in its tracks and turns to concern, and they stare at each other for a few moments, unsure how to proceed. Thorin kneels down slowly and reverently and picks up the acorn lying on the floor, and puts it in his own pocket. And he remains there, his head pressed against Bilbo’s heart as he breathes in the realness of him, finally, and yet not daring to look at him. Maybe this was just a war between two forces - the good that is his love for Bilbo and the evil of the ring. Maybe now that the love has played its part and the spell is broken, this dream is over.

He feels Bilbo’s hands on his hair, still he is unsure. Bilbo has not said the words back, and he will not risk... or will he? He stands up slowly, lifting Bilbo with him, and Bilbo’s feet leave the floor, his arms still spread around Thorin’s head. Thorin holds him up in the air for a few moments, then lets him slide down slowly. And now it is time to decide.

* * *

Bilbo breathes a sigh of relief. The ring is gone for now. He feels free.

Where is it? Is Thranduil going to walk in the next moment and steal it from him? These are thoughts for later. There is too much going on as it is.

He is still under the shock of what happened. He made so many mistakes this evening! And he is still under the spell of Thranduil’s wine. What he wanted didn’t happen; he didn’t get to say what he wanted to say.

But Thorin said it to him. Which is... He did not expect that it would happen this way.

He feels absorbed by Thorin’s words, by how much they _mean_. Now he realizes this was something he had not even been able to conceive. That Thorin could love him. He only thought of himself loving Thorin, being there for him, devoting himself to him...

And it all comes as a different shock, and he feels somewhat frustrated. He is still not completely himself, and can’t reciprocate this right now. He can’t say the words he has wanted to say all evening.

Thorin is looking at him with concern in his eyes, his arms around him sort of loosely, as if he’s waiting for Bilbo to lead him.

“What are you afraid of?” Thorin asks finally, and Bilbo wonders if he has perceived his turmoil. It feels as if Thorin is reading his mind, and how Bilbo wishes he could answer! _Everything_ , of course. _Everything_.

“Nothing,” he hears himself, and secretly hopes it’s better than giving no answer at all.

* * *

“What are _you_ afraid of?” Bilbo shoots back, impulsive and provocative, as if he’s daring Thorin to come up with something better.

“Myself,” Thorin says, and it turns out Bilbo’s earlier _Nothing_ was the _right_ answer, for Thorin leans down so he is now at the same level with him, and Thorin’s lips get close to his until there is only the smallest space between them. And Thorin closes his eyes and stays like this, feeling Bilbo breathe his name over and over as he breathes _him_ in. He places his hands over Bilbo’s shoulders and slowly runs them down to his hips, and then back up, repeating this motion as if he wants to clothe him with his energy, to seal the protection around Bilbo that was so feeble earlier. Then his lips move imperceptibly until there is no more space and they touch Bilbo’s, and it’s slow and deliberate and _controlled_ and not in a hurry at all; so that it can stop at any time. But it doesn’t feel like Bilbo wants anything to stop; he seems to welcome it all, and his lips open slightly as in a small invitation. Thorin covers Bilbo’s hands with his own and brings them toward Bilbo’s back, while kissing him again and again. And every time their lips meet opens a new way to something very unexpected and irresistible, something like Thorin’s happiness. And it feels that, though somewhat discreetly reserved, Bilbo is enjoying this, and after a while he shifts his head slightly, bringing his cheek against Thorin’s lips, then revealing his chin, then he lifts his head as if asking Thorin’s lips to wander further to his neck, and Thorin tastes all of this in slow and careful movements, _What am I to you, Thorin?_ he hears Bilbo ask in between, _My love_ , he rumbles, _You’re my love_ , and he finds his lips again, and can feel how Bilbo loves this, to take what Thorin is offering, to drink and savor him from a place of comfort and restraint. And now Bilbo turns around and Thorin’s face is inundated with hair, and Thorin kisses his curls and the tip of his ear, _And you’re beautiful_ , he adds as his lips move down toward the nape of his neck, and where Thorin was unyielding earlier he now finds himself moving smoothly in this almost mystical dance of fluid motion that Bilbo is leading him through... Bilbo turns himself again to face him, and Thorin feels graceful fingers touching right below his ear, the small space there where his hair does not reach, Bilbo’s fingers trailing softly down to his neck in a kind of an idle gesture... And this is enough for Thorin’s protectiveness to give way to his long hidden desire, and someone else takes his place, whose kisses are wilder and more urgent, who wants to push Bilbo against the wall and have his way with him here and now-

 _Does Bilbo really want this, or is it just the wine... how does he really feel about me..._ he can push these questions for later, _but how will he feel about me in the mo..._ maybe it’s time to stop, he thinks, but Bilbo is touching him with both hands now, slowly pushing him towards the bed, until Thorin falls on the bed taking Bilbo with him, _what he wants, anything, anything he wants_... Yet as now Thorin can see Bilbo’s face again, he immediately perceives that Bilbo wants the bed as a place for rest; for he looks calmer now, but also spent. Thorin places him comfortably on the bed, lies next to him and wraps Bilbo in his arms. And Bilbo’s lips find his this time, relaxed and playful and lazy, and not in a hurry at all...

* * *

“Is it a dream?” Bilbo asks as he lies on his back, his eyes shining in wonder. He doesn’t want this blissful moment to end.

“It has to be,” Thorin answers. He’s barely sitting up, looking down at Bilbo, his eyes focused as if he’s beholding the most beautiful work of art.

“Will you tell me again? Before we both wake up?”

“I love you. And I will tell you _again_ when we wake up, if you wish to hear it.”

Bilbo doesn’t say anything. He places his hands at the top of Thorin’s head and traces them down to the sides, to that place he adores, where Thorin’s hair ends. He repeats the movement, up and down, his fingers brushing Thorin’s hair lovingly while drinking in the sight of him. If it is a dream, he wants to remember this moment, and wants _Thorin_ to remember also. That Bilbo loved him, even if he couldn’t say it.

“Sleep well, Thorin,” he says as he closes his eyes, content and consumed.

“Good night, my love,” he hears Thorin, _his_ Thorin in this unspeakable moment. And in the haziness of the night one thing becomes clear to him: it was worth drinking Thranduil’s wine and suffer the ring’s strange power, if only to feel the kind of peace released by these words.

“Your eyes see but my shadow

My heart is overflowing

There’s so much you could come to know

You’re content not knowing

Tenderly

You could see

My soul

Here in the dark

I only touch you in my dreams

But will you ever hear my heart

The way it calls to you

As if your name were branded

On the very soul of me

It’s calling like a child who’s lost his way

“I’m here - please say you hear me calling”

Please say you see me

Please say you hear me

Please give my heart its home

Don’t leave me here all alone”

( _Phantom of the Opera Aria_ by the great Misha Segal)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All Khuzdul is from [www.dwarrowscholar.com](https://www.dwarrowscholar.com)


	17. Redefine the Line

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Bilbo takes time to recover and Thorin worries about the ring, the two attempt to talk about what caused last night’s events. Thranduil makes his final offer.

The acorn lay in Thorin’s pocket, protected for now.

Thorin would not sleep tonight. Whatever this evil was, that had taken hold of his love, he sensed it was not over. He needed to watch over him.

He glanced carefully towards the floor where he had dropped the ring earlier. When he didn’t see it, he leaned down at the edge of the bed to look under. The Ring lay under his bed ( _How did it get there?_ ), and it felt like it was staring back at him, and Thorin felt afraid. Instantly, he reached for the ring and picked it up, then exited the room in a hurry.

“Dwalin. Wake up.”

Dwalin got up with a groan, axe in his hand at a moment’s notice. Thorin gestured at him and he followed without question back into Thorin’s room.

“I need you to watch over Bilbo while I step out for a few minutes. He should not be alone.”

“Step out? You can’t wait until the morning?”

“No. There is something I need to take care of now.”

“Say no more. Happy times, I trust?” Dwalin inquired with a grin as he pointed towards the bed. “Or just drunk hobbit?”

 _A bit of both, I believe_ , Thorin thought uneasily. “I’m not really sure what’s going on,” he said with a frown.

“He didn’t listen to you, did he? He had to drink from the forbidden cup. I thought he might. That hobbit can never stay out of trouble for too long. I take it you’re not complaining though; it looks like it worked out for the best.” Then he eyed the burned holes in Thorin’s shirt, which, due to the darkness in the room, he couldn’t quite make out. “Though I’d say that’s a bit rough for a first night together,” he said, half intrigued, half amused.

“Oh, that... It’s not what you think,” said Thorin. “Listen, I need to go now. Stay with him and don’t let anyone in!”

He rushed outside and went to the garden, and kneeled before the statue and the Arkenstone. “I need to know what this is,” he said, pulling the ring out of his pocket. “It... I think it’s affecting _him_. Regularly. And it has definitely hurt him tonight, as well as me. Can you tell me?”

The Arkenstone made a rattling noise as if agitated, and for a brief moment, even the statue looked like it changed its expression to one of fear. _EVIL_ , the Arkenstone’s light spelled on the tree branches.

“Can I get rid of it?”

 _HE WON’T LET YOU. HE WILL WANT IT BACK_.

“Should I give it back to him?” asked Thorin.

The Arkenstone did not give a direct answer. _DON’T LET HIM BRING IT TO EREBOR_.

“Why? Because its evil is too great?”

 _YES. AND YOU WON’T HAVE ME THERE_.

“What if I took you with me? Would you be able to hold the ring’s evil at bay?”

 _POSSIBLY_ , the Arkenstone answered.

“I don’t know what to do with it right now,” said Thorin. “I don’t want it near _him_. He needs to recover after all he’s been through tonight. I’m going to leave the ring here for now. I hope it won’t hurt anyone while I think of something.” He stood and walked towards a bush with round red flowers, that he was sure he would recognize later, and buried the ring at the bottom of it. “One more thing...” he addressed the Arkenstone again as he walked back, “I have his acorn with me. It got burned by the ring, and I want to make sure it can still grow after what happened tonight. Will you help?”

 _AS YOU WISH, SON OF THRAIN_ , the Arkenstone wrote, and Thorin could feel its love through its beautiful rays of light.

“Thank you,” he said with a bow. “I will return later. Thank you,” and this time he glanced at the statue with gratitude.

He returned to the palace, feeling deeply troubled; as the door to his room appeared in his field of vision, he stopped to take a moment and hold his focus on it. He straightened his posture and grasped his sword, and conjured the image of Smaug attacking Erebor and himself standing before his grandfather’s army, giving his order. Only instead of the dragon, the image of Bilbo walked through the door and came into view, saying, _Oh, Thorin. Now that we’re both awake, I’m most anxious to apologize. You see, I had two glasses of wine last night, and I’ll tell you, that stuff is strong. It really did a number on me. So... whatever I said, or did... please just know that it wasn’t me and it won’t happen again, all right?_

Thorin held himself steady, eyes blazing, unflinching, every bit the warrior that he was. “No apologies are necessary, Master Baggins,” he said out loud. “Please think no more of it.” _It is I who should apologize_ , he silently added. _I took advantage of you in a fragile state_. He moved towards the door proudly, feeling like he overcame the hardest obstacle of this day. He’d live through the rest of it.

Only, he didn’t reach the door.

“You know, you’ve officially lost your mind,” Dwalin intoned from the shadows. “I came out for a quick smoke and here I am, relaxing with my thoughts, and what do I see. The great Thorin Oakenshield, a living legend, reduced to...” - he stared helplessly as if words were useless - “ _this_.”

“Dwalin... How is he?”

“Sleeping like a baby. He looks quite happy, by the way.” Thorin tried to smile with some semblance of relief.

* * *

Bilbo was sleeping.

In his dream, he still had the ring on, and wouldn’t take it off no matter what Thorin said. Then Thorin took off his coat and draped it over Bilbo’s back, and brought him close, creating a shield of warmth aroung him with nowhere to escape. And Thorin kissed his curls, and his forehead, and his lips, and while they kissed Thorin found his hands, and his fingers touched the ring. Bilbo was startled, but the way Thorin was kissing him was so passionate and complete and overpowering that it took over everything else, and Bilbo let him continue to touch his ring, and leaned into the kiss, and felt Thorin move his ring, and didn’t resist and instead pulled Thorin closer... and he didn’t know when the ring came off, and he began to feel calmer, and the calm brought a feeling of exhaustion; he didn’t want to go to sleep, yet he couldn’t fight it much longer. And as they lay in bed he heard Thorin say, _I wish we could stay in this moment_ , and then peace descended upon Bilbo again, just like the first time. And as he drifted off to sleep he searched for yet another dream, another way that this could have happened...

...He woke up to find Thorin sleeping next to him, his back turned, his hair within Bilbo’s reach, and touched it tentatively a few times, marveling that he could do this freely now...

Wait a second. What?

 _Oh. That’s right. Because... last night_.

Two things stood out for Bilbo as he began to remember: one was something unbelievable and far away: that Thorin had said he loved him. The other was the realization that the ring was not with him, at which he jumped in an uncontrolled motion. He looked on the nightstand, then on the floor where he had stood with Thorin earlier, and when he didn’t see it he got out of bed at once; only to be met by Balin’s inquisitive pair of eyes, staring at him from the other side of the room.

“Hey, laddie.”

“Goodness. Balin. I didn’t know you were here,” he whispered.

“Thorin asked me to watch over the two of you while he slept,” said Balin. “He himself watched you the whole night.”

“Why?”

“He was worried about you. But even a stubborn Dwarf like this one needs his rest every now and then; he crashed not long ago.”

“Balin...” said Bilbo as he began to feel the awkwardness of the situation, “did Thorin look... happy at all? I mean, was he all right with me sleeping in his room?”

Balin laughed. “Well, he hasn’t kicked you out yet, has he?”

At that moment they heard a knock on the door, and an Elf maid stepped in, carrying a tray with what looked like a delicious feast. “Breakfast for King Thorin,” she said with a suave voice. Then she stopped in confusion, taking in the sight of Bilbo and Balin, and the trashed Thorin on the bed. “Oh, I’m sorry. I hope I didn’t interrupt anything.” She left the tray with Balin, bowed and stepped out.

“Bilbo, you can go ahead and eat this,” said Balin. “I am certain Thorin would offer it to you.”

“Thank you, Balin,” said Bilbo and began eating immediately, though careful to leave some of the food untouched. “Does Thorin always get served in his room like this?”

“Not that I know of,” said Balin. “I’m just as perplexed as you are.”

At that moment Thorin stirred and almost fell out of bed, and Bilbo rushed to his side. Seconds later, he was bringing the breakfast tray to the bed, and offering some food to Thorin in a loving gesture. “I guess that’s my cue to leave,” Balin muttered and left the room.

Thorin didn’t look rested at all, and his face was full of worry. “Something happened to you last night,” he said, looking like he was trying to assess how Bilbo was feeling. “Would you mind telling me about your time with Thranduil?”

So Bilbo told him almost everything: how he drank the wine and got to talking with the Elvenking, how he found out what the wine’s intended effect was, and how the conversation went downhill pretty fast. He carefully omitted Thranduil’s speculations about Thorin’s reasons for keeping Bilbo with him.

“So, it was meant to heighten a person’s greatest weakness,” Thorin reflected, deep in thought.

“Correct. Apparently, mine is my inclination to lie. So every time I gave him an answer, he took the opposite to be the truth. At some point he asked if my ring helped bring you back to life... and I said no, and he took that as a yes. After that, it was clear, he wanted my ring. So I put it on and fled, and came to you. And I couldn’t tell you what was happening to me. Thorin, I’m so sorry.”

“Your greatest weakness... is your inclination to lie?” Thorin asked, his voice trembling.

“It... sort of is. Thranduil actually offered his opinion on the matter. I think he’s right. I acquired this tendency while journeying with you all. Ever since the goblin tunnels, since I lay hands on the ring.”

Thorin struggled to process all this, feeling like he was hit with a hammer. “So... the wine made you less than... truthful, which you already were. I wonder what Thranduil’s goal was with all this.”

“Well... He never actually came to look for me, so I think all he wanted was to scare me. And... I think he wanted me to lie to you, Thorin.”

“And... did you?”

“I was able to resist the urge to lie for some of the time, thanks to Thranduil himself. He told me what the wine did, and with that knowledge I was able to defend myself against the spell. I don’t know why he would reveal something this helpful to me. Perhaps _his_ greatest weakness is his tendency to brag! I got the same vibe from Smaug back in Erebor. But anyway...” he averted his eyes from Thorin, “there were things I couldn’t say to you last night.”

 _The question is which things_ , Thorin thought. _Perhaps you only pretended to be... comfortable with certain aspects of last night._ He remembered how Bilbo had said _Nothing_ when asked what he was afraid of... _Perhaps all you wanted was to tell me to stop, or to never start in the first place._ Yet he was horrified at the prospect of asking for clarification, and instead told himself there were more pressing things to think about, with Bilbo’s well-being at the top. _It was real, Bilbo_. _For me, what we had was real_.

* * *

“Anyway, I’m very curious to know how the wine affected _you_ , Thorin.”

“I... I neglected you,” said Thorin sorrowfully. “I should have protected you from Thranduil.”

“Oh. That’s it?”

Thorin looked unsure and afraid. “It is possible that it made me eager to fulfill your every wish; I mean, more eager than I already am.”

“Oh.” Now it was Bilbo’s turn to ponder, and he felt quite distraught. “That’s... a _weakness_ to you?” His mind began to put things together in a panic. He was all too aware of what the wine had done to him; was it possible it made Thorin say and do things he didn’t mean...? Bilbo had pressed him with pointed questions; perhaps Thorin guessed where he was going with them? What if Thorin somehow sensed Bilbo’s _need_ to hear those words, that Thorin loved him, a need rapidly increased by his unsettling meeting with Thranduil? What if Thorin told him just what he wanted to hear, simply because _he wished it_?

But the things that followed... it was impossible to suspect them of being anything less than genuine. Bilbo had felt Thorin’s love through every pore of his being. His heart, his soul was filled with that love. It had to be real! No, the problem lay elsewhere, the problem still standing was that he had not said what he wanted to say...

“That didn’t come out right. I don’t know what the wine did to me, Bilbo. All I know is I couldn’t say no to you; but that’s already true, most of the time. Other than that, I really was myself. I am so sorry I didn’t protect you,” and Thorin buried his face in his hands.

“No, this was all my fault. I was curious about the wine. I got both of us in trouble when I asked to taste it. Thorin... do you have any idea where my ring is?” he asked abruptly.

So Thorin told him about his little dialogue in the garden and the finding that the ring was evil, leaving out the part about the ring bringing evil to Erebor.

“And where is it now? Can I have it back?”

“Bilbo... the ring... it caused you harm last night. Thranduil’s wine by itself was not evil; it was just a trick meant to manipulate us. But the ring... it is not the first time I see this. I don’t want the evil I sensed - that I _saw_ \- around you last night to return. I think it is best you stay away from it for now.”

“For how long?” asked Bilbo uncomfortably.

“Until... until we can talk more. There are things I want to know from you, without the presence of the ring. But first, I really think you should rest some more.”

“Do you want the ring for yourself, Thorin? Is that what this is?”

“No, Bilbo. I would never take something of yours.”

“Hmmm. All right. I _could_ use more rest,” said Bilbo, his voice not completely free of suspicion.

Then the Elf lady came again, this time requesting an audience with both Thorin and Bilbo on the Elvenking’s behalf. Thorin told her Bilbo would be unavailable, and that if Thranduil would condescend to talk to him alone he should come to Thorin’s room. Then he asked Fili and Kili to walk Bilbo to his room and keep him company while he sorted out his thoughts and prepared for Thranduil’s potential visit.

* * *

_My greatest weakness._

This did not sound right. Love could not be a weakness.

Yet his love for Bilbo _was_ making him weak. And needy. Without Bilbo around him... he knew. Something he couldn’t admit to himself. He had felt it when he’d thought it was the end and he’d stay in Mahal’s halls while Bilbo would go on living a comfortable life.

And he had this love to thank for not thinking straight. Being ready to leave the treasured jewel of his kingdom behind. Being now ready to endanger his kingdom by bringing this person with him, who carried great evil, just to have Bilbo with him. At times he had even contemplated leaving the kingdom in someone else’s care and going back to the Shire with Bilbo; but that was not what duty and honor dictated. No, he had promised to _do the right thing_ , and pursuing such a selfish goal was not it.

Yes, it _was_ a weakness.

“King Thorin. A pleasure to see you, as always.”

Thorin’s eyes shot daggers at Thranduil. “Spare me the niceties. What you did last night to Master Baggins... you’ve sunk to the lowest of the low, even by Elven standards.”

“Yes, yes. I’m aware I went a bit too far,” said Thranduil unexpectedly. “I fell victim to the spell of my own wine, which I enjoyed in the company of the lovely Mister Baggins. It enhanced my greatest weakness. I long to see my beloved wife, and... well, the Halfling possesses the solution to that. His ring, I have finally worked it out, can provide what I desperately need, and as I realized that, I got very greedy for it...”

“Just to be clear, you’re saying your greatest weakness is your need to see your wife? Or your greed for a powerful object?”

Thranduil sighed. “In my longing to see her, I have a tendency to stop at nothing just so I could achieve this goal. And that tendency got out of control last night.”

“But why did you want us to drink in the first place?”

“Ah. It is of no matter now. It didn’t work, anyway. Let me get to the point.”

“By all means, do,” said Thorin disdainfully.

“I’m actually proud of myself for coming up with what should be the easiest choice. I will let you take back the Arkenstone, and relinquish any claim on Mister Baggins, if only he leaves the ring with me. Of course, I won’t complain if _he_ chooses to stay also, in which case he can keep the ring.”

“Easiest? Neither Master Baggins nor the ring are in my possession. The only thing _I_ can offer you is the Arkenstone. I’m guessing you have completely lost interest in it?”

“The Arkenstone will remain here if Mister Baggins leaves with you and with... the ring. However, I’m sure you can ask your loyal friend to part with the ring; he won’t refuse you this favor. After all, it is thanks to him that I have the Arkenstone... perhaps this way he can finally pay you back for... you know, stealing from you.”

Thorin pondered. Getting rid of the ring would be convenient, no doubt; then he’d get the Arkenstone back, and no evil would come to Erebor. Yet he needed to be careful not to let the Elf penetrate his thoughts...

“It is not mine to give or to even ask about,” he said carefully.

“Very well. I will ask him then.”

“You will STAY AWAY FROM HIM,” Thorin growled. “I am warning you. If you seek to see Master Baggins while he is recovering from his horrible experience of last night, which _you_ caused...”

“Fine, fine,” Thranduil waved him off impatiently. “What shall I do if he seeks me though?”

“ _Enough_!”

Thorin did not mean to shout, certainly not during a dialogue with another king. He cleared his throat and headed for the door. “This conversation is over. I would ask you to get out of here, but it’s your palace, so... I will see myself out. While you’re at it, feel free to ransack my room. Maybe you’ll find something else of value you might want.”

“Oh, no, I won’t bother,” said Thranduil coolly. “I know your greatest treasure is not in this room.” And he left before Thorin could give a reply.

* * *

Thorin spent the rest of the day at Bilbo’s side, watching as the hobbit regained some of his strength. When Bilbo asked what Thranduil had wanted, Thorin only said _Nothing important_. Thorin asked the Elf maid to bring elevenses, lunch and afternoon tea, so Bilbo ate in Shire style for a good part of the day, and became more and more overwhelmed, to him all this being very clear in its meaning as a courting maneuver; combined with last night’s events, he couldn’t deny the evidence that Thorin really loved him was piling on! Still he couldn’t ask, because he hadn’t yet figured out _how_ to ask, if Thorin’s declaration had been genuine.

They had just finished dinner when Bilbo asked again about the ring, and Thorin found that, while he still had much to talk about, he couldn’t stall anymore on the unpleasant subject. So they walked to the garden together, and Thorin thought and thought how to distract Bilbo from the ring in the few moments he had before he needed to return it. He reached for the acorn in his pocket as one last attempt to change the subject. “Did you want this back, too?” he said as he opened his hand.

As they both looked at it, they were astounded, for the acorn had sprouted while in Thorin’s coat pocket. And they didn’t know why; while Thorin may have thought the Arkenstone was responsible, that it had worked its magic needing no further entreaty from either of the two, Bilbo had another theory; and so moved was he at the sight of the acorn, that he forgot about the ring and took the fruit from Thorin’s hand and enclosed it in both of his, and whispered secretly, _I’m not surprised_ and then out loud, “Now I’m really going to have to plant it, and soon”. “It seems a shame you’re so far away from the Shire,” Thorin said, and Bilbo gave him a thoughtful look, wondering if he should tell Thorin his theory or wait until he could be sure he was more than a _weakness_ to him-

As they walked back to their rooms, Bilbo remembered that he was supposed to have one more meeting with Thranduil before leaving. He had not worked out what to say to the Elvenking on the subject of how to deal with the pain of losing his beloved. So Bilbo brought this up with Thorin, asking him if he had an opinion on the matter. To which Thorin replied, “Yes, I certainly do. In fact why don’t you let me meet with Thranduil and share my thoughts, of which I have plenty. You need to stay away from him; I’ll be happy to handle this for you.” And Bilbo looked at him in shock. “You have things to say about losing the one you love? I didn’t know you had experience in this area.” “I didn’t say the experience was mine,” Thorin clarified, “though I came close too, in a way. I will see him tomorrow over breakfast and get this over with, and if you feel sufficiently recovered we will leave Mirkwood the day after.”

Bilbo felt quite discouraged and thought of retiring to his room with a short _good night_ so he could weep over the possibility that the voice in his dreams was right after all and Thorin did have a One who was waiting in Mahal’s halls - there was no other reason Thorin could have any advice to offer Thranduil! And Bilbo lost all interest in talking of his love - _a good thing I didn’t say anything, then_ \- when Thorin turned towards him as they reached the door to his room and said, “Would you mind if I stayed with you tonight?”

Bilbo lifted his eyes to look at him, happy to replace sadness with confusion. “Oh. There’s no need. I’m feeling better now,” and Thorin tried again gently, “I can’t leave you out of my sight. Please. I will sleep on the floor; just let me be around you.”

“Because you’re worried about me. Is that it? You really don’t need to be.”

“I do,” Thorin protested weakly. “But I won’t insist any further; forgive me,” and he moved away while still looking at Bilbo with much concern. “Good night, Master Baggins.”

Bilbo watched him carefully, trying to see behind those eyes- nothing, but steeled determination. He bid him good night and the door closed between them.

Bilbo took a few minutes to get ready for bed, then lit a candle on his nightstand and took a deep breath. Then he started pacing restlessly back and forth around the room. He finally sat at his table and wrote on a piece of paper, _In the halls of the Woodland Realm, there lived a hobbit. A very confused and unsettled hobbit_. Then he laughed at himself and threw the paper away.

It was strange, being without the ring.

Stranger than being without Thorin?

Then he realized he was waiting. Waiting to hear sounds coming from the other room, as they usually did, every night. The sound of Thorin composing his music on the harp... But the walls were silent now.

He felt the urge to run to the room next door and check if Thorin was all right. No. That Thorin was _there_. All of a sudden he felt so alone.

_Why am I going there... This is highly improper, not to mention I will look desperate. I am not going there._

_Yes, I_ _ **am**_. _He wanted to spend the night here, for Yavanna’s sake! So why can’t I..._

_Because I don’t know what really went on last night. If he_ _**meant** _ _the things he said._

_But I can ask for his company. I can ask him to stay with me. Even if it wasn’t real._

He opened the door before he could feel any more thoughts come in, and saw Thorin sitting against a wall in the hallway, a blanket spread on the floor under him, his sword ready in his hand.

“No, no, no. You can’t do that,” Bilbo said, almost panicking at the sight. “If you think _this_ will help me sleep well, you’re wrong.”

“You can’t tell me what I can’t do,” Thorin replied defiantly.

Bilbo laughed. “You’re right. But this is not productive, Thorin.”

“Then what is? Would you mind telling me what I _can_ do? What _is_ acceptable to you?”

“That you stay with me tonight,” Bilbo said softly. “And that you don’t sleep on the floor. And since your bed is larger than mine, I would prefer that we sleep in your room. And that... you rest too, Thorin; you’re completely trashed.”

Thorin nodded in happy submission, and they moved towards his room with great hopes for clarity.


	18. From Despair To Where

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo and Thorin each have a dream in which they receive advice before meeting with Thranduil one last time the next morning.  
> I hope you will enjoy reading this chapter as much as I loved writing and visualizing it!

“My son... I need to speak with you.”

They are in an old, abandoned fortress, somewhere Thorin never thought to look before. The figure emerges from the shadows and approaches, looking bruised and battered, and Thorin shakes with horror.

“Father... Is that really you?”

“We don’t have much time. There is something you need to know.”

“Where are you? All these years, I’ve searched in vain... Please, tell me,” Thorin begs in anguish.

“Listen to me, Thorin. You will be going to Erebor soon. I warned Gandalf that you should not be allowed to enter while the dragon and the One were both in the Mountain. Yet you did, and I know it did not go well for you. By the grace of Mahal, I have come to warn you myself this time. The Mountain is in danger, if you allow that thing to be brought there again. _You_ are in danger.”

“The ring? Is that what you speak of? But the spell... it is believed that Gandalf removed the spell.” _Or rather, it is_ _ **hoped**_ _that he did._

“But you cannot know for sure, can you? I wouldn’t take any risks, my son. That dragon sat there for too long. The ring would only enhance the power of the evil already present there, and it is _you_ who are the most vulnerable, most likely to be affected. Remember the strain of madness that runs deep in our family.”

“Then what must I do?”

“The person who carries it... perhaps he can just go back home. Take the ring with him.”

“But the ring is not good for him either!” Thorin cries. “And I can’t...” He stops, swallowing bitterly.

“It is a lesser evil to leave the ring with him,” the figure replies smoothly. “Or so I am told by higher powers. My son... you asked for a chance to make things right. Our Maker has granted it to you. Now, our people need you; it’s time to think of your duty to them.”

“What if the ring stays here, in Mirkwood?” Thorin asks, a glimmer of hope flying by.

“That would be better than bringing it to Erebor, but it needs to remain in the same person’s keeping.”

“Why? Why can’t someone else have it, such as the ruler of these lands?...”

“The ring’s evil is not strong against the person who carries it now. Not as strong as it would be in the hands of an Elf or a Man.”

“So I need to leave _him_ here as well,” Thorin concludes with words that taste like poison. The figure is departing now, only smoke and shadows, disintegrating slowly. “Father! How did you know that I asked for a chance... and how do you know about the ring?”

“Because I love you,” Thorin hears, and is left to ask _Where are you_ again and again, no closure and no relief in his heart for the fate of his father...

The figure is gone; yet Thorin can still hear a voice. Only it sounds different now, nothing kind, concerned or reliable like the one earlier. “The ring is hurting your Master Baggins,” the voice echoes Thorin’s feelings eagerly. “You can protect him. Leave it in Mirkwood, son of Thrain, and you can still take _him_ with you.”

“Who are you?” Thorin asks, troubled and agitated, trying to discern if anyone is moving through the shadows of the old fortress. “How do you know _him_?” Then he feels a dark, cold shadow fall upon him, a clear sign, perhaps, of what would befall him if... He shudders, and tries to chase it away with a swing of his arm.

Then he feels a light touch on his chest, and soft fingers running through his hair, and the sweet and caring voice of his love fills the air with a whisper, _It’s just a dream, Thorin..._

* * * 

Bilbo is awake.

He has done well this evening. He has managed to switch Thorin from his protective role to a more passive one, while he, Bilbo, took control. That resulted in Thorin finally getting some rest, and Bilbo having some time to reflect on the situation. Well... not that Bilbo hasn’t tried to rest, too, but. It’s not exactly easy to fall asleep next to the person he’s madly in love with, when just last night said person spoke passionately of love and kissed him!

So, yes, Bilbo finally has a chance to reflect, and he begins, in order, with item number one. It is clear that Thorin is not eager to say those words again. _Whatever his reason for saying them last night, he has retreated back behind those walls I know all too well_. Perhaps he’s waiting for Bilbo to say something (and who can blame him?) or perhaps... _Ugh. You’ve been over this already_ , Bilbo sighs in utter discouragement. At any rate, if things are to move forward, it is Bilbo who needs to get them going. Which... he tried last night, and let’s just say he doesn’t possess the incentive to try to confess his feelings again; if anything, last night’s events taught him to be even more cautious than he already was! _This is what you get for thinking you can_ _ **initiate**_ _things, Bilbo Baggins. How do you like it now? Drinking that wine was not a good recipe for saying_ I love you _; no pun intended_. Bilbo stifles a laugh. _But seriously, all you do is get in trouble._

For the most part he has been comfortable loving Thorin from a safe distance, where he could tell himself it’s all right if Thorin doesn’t love him, because Thorin is alive, and is his friend, and that is more than anyone could ask for. But now... Thorin has said the words, and what came after was something out of a dream. And while Bilbo would now be fine with waiting longer to confess his feelings, he certainly doesn’t want to wait anymore to have _that_ with Thorin.

So. Item number two. The moments he shared with Thorin last night are in a category of their own, and as good as a love statement as any. While he is not ready to try again with words, he wants, he desperately wants that closeness again. And he is aware that things are far from being clear. Thorin’s One, dead or not, is still a grey area that needs to be dealt with; Thranduil’s game is not over, and Bilbo senses that Thorin is hiding the Elvenking’s latest ploy from him; and even assuming Thorin is Oneless for the time being, Bilbo still doesn’t know if he has a chance with him... Yet all these pieces are rapidly extinguished under the flame of his desire to just take Thorin in his arms right now, and forget all these complicated matters...

He briefly wonders if he could pretend to be dreaming. Right now. And try to get close to Thorin. And if Thorin doesn’t welcome that closeness, he can blame it on...

 _No_. He sees the trace of cunningness in this plan, and shakes himself mentally. _No._ _**This**_ _is what gets me in trouble._ _ **My greatest weakness**_. _No. I will be truthful. I **want** this with him. I will not be afraid to admit it; if it’s not well received, I’ll apologize and never try again. But admit it nonetheless_.

He doesn’t want to know if Thorin is awake. If he looks at him closely and finds out that he is, his resolve will fade and he’ll lose his courage. He is so, so scared he’s going to do the wrong thing.

But before he can do anything, Thorin’s hand is moving as if chasing something nonexistent, and Bilbo sees he looks troubled and afraid. And now Bilbo can tell that Thorin is sleeping and must be having a bad dream. Instinctively, he brings one hand to Thorin’s chest, and starts caressing his hair with the other, whispering to him that it’s just a dream, and feels Thorin calm down almost instantly. He moves up until he is at Thorin’s level, and looks at him carefully. He wants to kiss him, and it feels like stealing.

His fingers find Thorin’s forehead, his temple, his cheek; he moves his hand slowly, resting it briefly in each of these places, and then he places a kiss on each of them. Thorin tilts his head back slightly, his face peaceful and happy, and it looks like he’s still sleeping.

“It feels like I’m stealing,” Bilbo murmurs, half to himself. “I don’t want to steal from you. I’ve never wanted to.”

“You can’t steal what is already yours,” he hears Thorin say dreamily. And these words... are the answer to everything, and an everything in itself. Bilbo can’t express how comforting they are, and he breaks into a small laugh as his heart fills with happiness. All of a sudden he feels perfectly content; this is more than enough. He rests his head on Thorin’s chest and breathes in this moment, _we are here, he is alive, he is my... he is... possibly, maybe... he... is... mine._

...Bilbo soon fell asleep, and in his dream he heard the voice of the shadowy figure who had visited him while Thorin lay at death’s door; the voice was back, and eager to remind him that Thorin’s One was in Mahal’s halls. “You will learn all about it soon enough, Bilbo Baggins. Your friend will meet with the Elf King this morning. I encourage you to attend their meeting, so you can see that there is only one reason why he would have any knowledge to impart on the Elf on how to deal with the loss of his loved one; the reason is that his One is...”

“I don’t believe you,” Bilbo jumped in. “You said Thorin never met his One. So how could he know that his One is dead, let alone feel the sorrow of such a loss?”

“He can,” the voice answered. “Dwarves feel these things. Their connection with their Ones is very strong, whether they meet or not. Without his One, he feels incomplete, that is a given; if his One is dead, it’s even worse. Regardless, I would say to you that this is your chance to return to a peaceful and comfortable life. You can remain in the Woodland Realm, under the loving protection of King Thranduil, or return to your Shire. You have been warned. The Dwarf king doesn’t love you; you are wasting your time chasing him.”

“Right, and he’s going to the Mountain where he will turn into a dragon,” Bilbo interrupted again unceremoniously. “Uh-huh. I will not leave him, even if he _does_ have a One. That doesn’t mean I’m chasing him.”

“A One that he still hasn’t met, thanks to _you_!” the voice shrieked.

“That may be, but Thorin is not unhappy to be alive!” Bilbo retorted. “If he feels the loss so keenly as you say, one would think he’d be quite miserable to find himself alive! But he seems happy enough! Pardon my directness, but I really don’t think you have your facts straight.”

“Then why do you think Thorin Oakenshield has offered to speak with Thranduil on such a delicate subject? The Elf lost his wife, and has no closure, no memory, can’t bring her back... and your friend is eager to offer him counsel.”

“Maybe it’s because he... he has known loss in his life... more than once. And lack of closure,” Bilbo replied, suddenly remembering the stories he had heard during their journey. How Thorin’s brother and grandfather perished in the battle of Azanulbizar, and how Thorin never found his father; never learned if he was dead or alive. How strange, to remember all of this now, in an instant, exactly when it was needed. It was as if those memories had not been _available_ to him before, yet now he could feel them with clarity and much intensity, as if they were happening right then. “Loss of family, not loss of his love. Not loss of his... One.” He desperately wanted to say more - something like _Because he is mine_ \- but stopped himself.

The voice paused for a while, and Bilbo felt proud at this small victory. Then it resumed. “There is no peace awaiting you in Erebor, Bilbo Baggins of the Shire,” it finished, firm and unwavering. “Remember my words. You will need to decide soon.” And with that it vanished.

Bilbo woke up late in the morning, feeling alone and cold with no Thorin beside him; and he felt overwhelmed by the words of the voice in his dream. In the light of day, they made the most sense. What had passed during the night, the sleeping Thorin and his dreamy words, Bilbo’s shaky resolve and his somewhat confident attitude towards the unpleasant voice, were all shattered; and he felt mad at himself, not for the first time. _How could you possibly think that there could be something between you and…_ _ **him**_? Yet the voice of reason inside him wanted to argue that perhaps Thorin was over the person he had loved; that maybe he could love again; or maybe that person wasn’t worth his love.

Yet he knew that Dwarves loved only once! Only in his mind, in his childish delusions, fueled by the thrill of an unexpected adventure, initiated and led by this person, this _Thorin_ , could such wild ideas exist. And yet he felt that he had something unique to give to Thorin, and felt a stubbornness about not giving up. He knew very well that so many others could _see_ Thorin, and who would not be taken with his handsome figure, his bravery, his skill in battle, his loyalty? He could have ruled kingdoms from that healing tent in Dale, drugged up and half asleep, and everyone would have still marveled at his majesty. So how could Bilbo, a hobbit from the Shire with nothing much to recommend him, hope to secure his affections?

Not that Bilbo could articulate it exactly, but he just felt like he _knew_ Thorin better than anyone. Perhaps because he had seen him in so many different circumstances, and different parts of Thorin had made an appearance here and there. But it was more than that: he felt that he could see Thorin in a way that nobody else could see him. In a way that made him follow him unconditionally; that made him stand between him and Azog, with only a letter opener in his hand; that made him rejoin the Company even upon hearing Thorin’s disdainful words, when he still had a chance to turn back... Was all of this for nothing?

 _But I betrayed him_ , Bilbo thought bitterly. _That was where it all ended, all that could have been. I couldn’t follow him into that madness; that was the only place I couldn’t go. I knew I stood to lose a lot… and yet I did it to save his life. Regardless... maybe that’s why nothing can ever grow between us._

Then how did he expect to be loved by Thorin?

_I’m not expecting it. I was just hoping for some hope. Well. I guess the voice in my dreams was right. Still, I can be his friend; that alone still means the world to me. At least I won’t have to put up with seeing him love and marry another, and luckily he’s not one to reminisce about his lost love, thank goodness!_

Hope threatened to insert itself again, as he decided he would actually like to go and see Thorin face Thranduil. Bilbo was in dire need of some clarity. He generally had a low tolerance for uncertainty and dwelling on nonsense, and was getting impatient to reach a resolution. Perhaps it could turn out that what Thorin had had with that person was not really love; or maybe Thorin would share some really effective methods for getting over a lost love! If, however, it turned out that Thorin really had a One, then Bilbo would know to stop hoping for good.

He rushed out the door to the dining hall, and found Thorin and Thranduil seated at the table, their conversation slow going.

“Ah. The person I was hoping to see”, said Thranduil. “Your king seems to think your presence is not necessary.”

Thorin got up and moved towards Bilbo. “You should not be here.”

Bilbo briefly forgot why he was there as he looked deep into those beautiful eyes. “I just wanted to be with you,” he said, and was amazed at his own boldness. As Thorin stared back at him, Bilbo felt his uneasiness. It also felt that Thorin was looking _through_ him, at someone else, an invisible person in the room...

“I am eager to hear what _both_ of you have to say,” Thranduil said, looking quite amused. “This will be a very interesting morning.”

“Let me begin,” Thorin said with determination. “For the grief and sorrow that you’ve felt for so many years, I am most sorry, King Thranduil. As I said before, the consolation lies in the certainty that you will see your wife again when you die. A fate that, sadly, is not reserved for all couples. You can also take solace in your son; you were fortunate to have him before you and your love were parted. I would think that a child can serve as a reminder of your One; that you could see her in him. But it is not for me to say. We Dwarves place great value on children, and kin in general, so for me this is an important point.”

Bilbo frowned in astonishment. Thorin was being very diplomatic. Forget it, he was actually being nice and compassionate! To... Thranduil, of all people! Bilbo never believed that it was even _possible_ for Thorin to be tactful, let alone apologetic and humble as he was now!

“To come to the real point though, you asked Master Baggins what he would do in your situation. And while he is thinking up an answer for you, I can give you one of my own.”

“That is all well and good, but what if I’m not interested in what a dwarf would do, even a kingly one such as yourself?” Thranduil asked, again quite amused, but curious at the same time.

Thorin smiled indulgently, and Bilbo thought that not only Thorin fancied himself superior, but he was also being mature about it!

“That’s all right,” Thorin said passionately. “I am not about to offer insight on what _I_ would do. I’d probably be just as crushed as you are, and end up a useless good-for-nothing, guilt and shame grinding me slowly every day. It’s Master Baggins’ way of doing things that I will focus on, that obviously interests you.”

“Impressive. You seem to know this Halfling quite well.”

“Thorin,” Bilbo interjected. “What…”

“Master Baggins,” Thorin continued unperturbed, “is a creature who likes balance and comfort. He does not take himself very seriously. While he surely would be deeply hurt at such a sad and untimely parting, he would likely manage to laugh at himself after a while, and say to himself this is all a bunch of nonsense. And he would, in time, return to his comforts, and add much to them in ways that are special and meaningful. I think he would write about his loved one. And he would spend much time trying to get the account right. He would also create stories and songs and share them with others. He would keep good company, nurture the young and inspire them with his stories. Master Baggins also has a love for languages, so I would expect he would occupy some of his time learning them and translating works of value so that others can read them.”

Thorin paused for a moment, eyeing Bilbo wonderingly, as if he sought approval not only for having those thoughts, but also for sharing them. He must not have detected a single trace of disapproval, and happily went on. “And he would continue to enjoy life’s simple pleasures, because as I said, he is a creature of balance. Too much grief creates an imbalance, which I believe in time Master Baggins would consider a bit ridiculous. And the simple joys of life would provide that... balance. His garden. Growing things… I think he would like that,“ - Thorin paused to smile in contentment here - ”And reading his books. And he would…” and here Thorin struggled for words, as emotion seemed to inundate him in a hurry, “maybe he would do all these things imagining he’s doing them _with that person_ , or _for that person._ I’m not sure on that one.”

“And would he move on, eventually?” asked Thranduil. “You’re sure making it seem like he wouldn’t be having such a hard time.”

Thorin pondered for a while, with a resigned look on his face. “Why don’t we ask Master Baggins, since he is right here,” he said with a trembling voice.

“Good idea. You heard the question, Halfling. Would you move on, eventually? Would you find love again, perhaps, or at least look for it?”

Bilbo stared absently for a while. Such a long speech… Where had that come from? Did Thorin just make it all up? _I didn’t say the experience was mine_ , he had said. _Then whose is it? Are you taking about mine? With so much detail and eloquence_?

“Never,” he said, continuing to gaze in the distance. “I would not, in a million years, be able to forget this person or to feel less intensely towards h… them.” And as he said those words, he saw Thorin shoot him a look - alarmed? suspicious? hopeful? - Bilbo could not name it, but it felt like their souls were once more passing each other by and touching briefly…

“Do you agree with your king’s account of your dealings with grief then, Halfling?”

“I… don’t know. I have never been in that situation, so I don’t know what I would do. What Thorin said about my love for languages and for simple joys… all of that is accurate. I also love my parents a lot, I treasure their memory. My father built my house as a gift for my mother; I love it and everything in it. My homeland… These things certainly occupy my mind. And I do have a curiosity for traveling and seeing new places. But whether all this would mean anything to me… in _that_ situation... I cannot say. Perhaps Thorin knows me better than I know myself. I just think not all he said is perfectly plausible. I think I would spend much time figuring out what this person meant to me, remembering them in every way. If I were to write an account of them, and… well... if they died, I would probably be so grief-stricken over it that I’d put off finishing my book, and try to tell the story in a way so that they _don’t_ die. Or… if they die at the end then maybe I would... skip the end and start writing it over and over again, from the beginning. Because that would be the only way to keep them alive. And that way I would never reach the end. I’m afraid it would take a _very_ long time to finish such a book.”

Now Thorin shot him a definite look of alarmed surprise, and now Bilbo knew this was a world, this was a world in which things were happening as described! Thorin seemed as if he knew he had died in another world, and maybe, just maybe... as if he knew that Bilbo had loved him, and that he was inconsolable in his grief for him...

 _I’m imagining things_ , Bilbo thought. _For once, it’s a good thing I haven’t had breakfast yet, or I would bet this Elvenking spiked my tea with something._

As if he could tell that Bilbo’s mind turned to him, Thranduil began speaking. “We Elves don’t have much patience for the simple joys of life. Time passes so slowly for us, it would be pointless to enjoy little moments. Sure, I pour myself a glass of wine and enjoy it just as much as the next Elf,”- Bilbo and Thorin exchanged a funny look here - “but it doesn’t occupy my mind in the slightest. I could just as well not do it. My grief is still there; I feel it just as I feel the passing of time. I feel it moving, going ever on and on, and with every second it makes its way in and around me.”

“Do you ever fight it?” Bilbo asked.

“I do, sometimes. When it becomes too much to bear.”

Neither Bilbo nor Thorin asked for specifics, though they could probably picture an angry Thranduil throwing glasses of wine to the floor and screaming in pain. They may have been very sorry and sad at the thought. If they also pictured the Elvenking’s recent imprisoning of a certain Company of dwarves on a whim, they did not voice that out loud either.

“King Thorin,” Thranduil finally said after some pondering, “I am now curious as to what _you_ would do. I am intrigued by your account of this Halfling, who no doubt is precious to you, if you put so much thought into an experience he hasn’t even had. It makes me wonder what your account of _yourself_ would be. Though I don’t presume you would know much of matters of the heart, I confess the approach you attributed to Mister Baggins just now is hard for me to relate to. While admirable and respectable, I fear I have little in common with him. It may be that I have more in common with you.”

“Mahal forbid. I thank you for this honor, great King,” Thorin smirked with his usual sarcasm. “You are right, I have little to offer on this matter. What I do know for certain is that I would always love my One, no matter where I am, whether in the Halls of my Maker, under my sacred Mountain or wandering the endless paths of Middle Earth. I suspect I would be restless wherever I was. I’d spend much time trying to build a bridge that can connect me with my One. We Dwarves are largely wedded to our crafts, so forging a connection - though I don’t know what material could be used - would probably come naturally to me. Other than that, I would focus on keeping that love in my heart, untainted and pure.”

Frantically, Bilbo tried to remember if he had ever noticed Thorin busy with forging a connection with his One, visible or not, during the quest. But he could not conjure any such memories. _Maybe this happened long time ago_ , he thought. _Maybe he’s not so focused on it anymore._

“But none of this guarantees that I’d succeed in anything,” Thorin continued with some bitterness. “I’d probably end up breaking my materials and my tools, and cursing every five minutes. And I’d end up brooding in a corner for the rest of my af… life. I’m afraid the help I can offer is limited.”

 _All right_ , Bilbo smiled sadly, not an encouraging thought at all. _This sounds a lot more like Thorin._

“This sounds a lot more like me,” Thranduil echoed in his own way, and he and Thorin looked at each other in disbelief, while Bilbo stood transfixed. “This is why I want to bring my wife back. Simple joys of life are doing nothing for me. Like you said you would, King Thorin, I try to forge a connection. And it goes nowhere. The love I have for her is pure, always in my heart, and it will never be tainted. But that doesn’t help. The only thing that would help is bringing her back.”

Then, unexpectedly, Thranduil looked at Bilbo with extreme fondness. “However, I would still exchange the Arkenstone for you, Halfling. Your presence in my kingdom would be most valuable to me. With your talent for languages and your passion for reading, you’d be of great value to my kingdom. You could communicate with other races on my behalf, and your counsel and charming diplomacy would be trusted by many. In addition, you’d be employed for reading, translating, compiling, and traveling every once in a while. And you’d be of great value to _me_... In time, perhaps you’d make me forget my misery, even teach me to deal with my sorrow in _your_ way, which is new and very refreshing to me. Do you see how much good you’d be able to do here, and receive in return?”

Thorin looked alarmed and ready to give a warning. “King Thranduil,” he said, heading for the door impatiently and gesturing to Bilbo to do the same. “You’re going too far.”

“Let the Halfling answer,” said Thranduil. “Do you find my offer agreeable, Bilbo Baggins of the Shire?” and now his voice was soft and warm, reminding Bilbo of his armchair at home, his cozy fireplace, a nice warm cup of tea… And he started feeling tipsy again, head spinning, sweet summer wine was now in his cup, and his head was falling back slowly, and he began to smile with contentment.

 _Contentment_ , he thought. _That’s what I’ve been missing. The Elvenking can provide this for me. While Thorin - nothing but misery; I’ve had enough. He doesn’t love me anyway. He clearly loved before; he’s just not saying it directly because it’s not Thranduil’s business, or mine, for that matter. And Dwarves. Love. Only. Once._

 _Take it_ , he heard a voice compelling him. His hand involuntarily reached in his pocket, seeking the ring. But the ring was not there anymore. Where was the voice coming from?

 _He doesn’t love me_ , Bilbo repeated in his mind. _But I love him. Thranduil’s offered delights are not worth it to me if he won’t be here with me_. And suddenly he became afraid of having this thought, as it seemed Thranduil caught hold of it as soon as it was formed; and Bilbo tried to push it out.

“Your offer is very agreeable indeed,” he answered plainly. “But there are things that are worth to me more than all the books and languages of the world. Things that… unfortunately, your kingdom does not… cannot provide. I don’t see it being a _home_ for me.” And he dared to look at Thorin, the Took side of him not caring what anyone thought, even if Thorin _were_ to have a One, he still meant everything to Bilbo and that was that. Thorin met his eyes, and it felt as many times before that they were in unison, that Thorin knew some of what he meant, and was happy with it, and _grateful_ , but no, neither of these spelled love, Bilbo reminded himself...

“So you don’t accept. Very well,” Thranduil said, looking unsurprised and eager to move on. “In that case, allow me to present my final offer.”

“No. You will not,” Thorin interjected rapidly. “If you have something more to say, say it to me alone. Bilbo, you need to leave this room. Now.”

“Is that so?” Thranduil asked. “What is it that you fear?” He advanced close to Thorin, and Bilbo knew what he was going to try to do, and moved between them.

“Do you not see that Master Baggins has gone through enough? Where is your heart?” Thorin implored, almost, while Bilbo stood there, wondering how he could shield him. “Go, Bilbo... you do not need to hear this.”

Bilbo nodded. “I’ll see you soon, I hope,” and he began walking towards the door, hesitantly.

“The ring,” he heard Thranduil behind him. “If you leave the ring here, both you and the Arkenstone are free to leave with your king.”

He turned and met Thorin’s gaze, full of darkness and dismay.

“You love him, don’t you?” Thranduil continued. “You love him and betrayed him. You owe him this much. It should be simple.”

Bilbo moved towards him, fury in his eyes, and it felt like now it was just the two of them in the room.

“Bilbo... I don’t care that you betrayed me. I have forgiven you. You owe me nothing,” he heard an almost nonexistent Thorin from far away, worlds between them.

“He may have forgiven you. But he is not returning your love in kind. Only this way... only if you prove to him... show him the _magnitude_ of your love... only then he will love you.”

“Not even then,” Bilbo spoke faintly, feeling the words slipping away from him. “I’m afraid Thorin’s heart is given elsewhere, and has been for some time. So, another one of your pathetic schemes fails, King Thranduil. I feel really sorry for you.” As he spoke, he felt himself drifting away from Thranduil, after having come so close to him just moments before. He didn’t dare look at Thorin anymore. Now the three of them were three dots in space, forming a giant triangle that kept getting bigger...

“As far as my own heart, it is tied to this ring. I will not part with it. If Thorin... if he wants his Arkenstone back, then I will take your earlier offer. I will stay here. You are right, I owe it to him. But I don’t think you understand; even if I’d never betrayed him, I would _want_ to do this for him.”

...He wants to say more, but something protective and unbelievably determined stops him. _We are done here_ , he hears hazily, and feels strong arms lift him in one effortless movement, and now he is being carried away from the room in a hurry. He doesn’t struggle one bit, and the next minute he is in the garden, the sun shining on his face when Thorin releases him.

He watches Thorin move a few steps away from him, looking like he’s preparing for a duel, and words fall down on him like thunder. “Tell me that you don’t believe what you just said.”

“What?”

He hears Thorin sigh with frustration. “Exactly, _what_.” There is no mistake: Thorin is upset. “Where can I begin? You said your heart is tied to this ring. And something else, that I think I know where you’re going with. You still think I value the Arkenstone more. You think my _heart_...”

“No, Thorin,” Bilbo pleads, a desperate attempt at bringing comfort. “I was just trying to dodge Thranduil’s trap. He was trying to read my mind. So I just said some things.” _So much for being_ _ **truthful**_ , he laments silently. _Something I can never be_.

Thorin looks at him in disbelief, and Bilbo presses his advantage. “But you... you didn’t want me to hear Thranduil’s offer. Why?” he asks pointedly, and it’s enough to hear the thunder reverberate through the garden again.

“Do you think I don’t know what he’s done to you? Along with this adventure, with all of its perils? Me, in my madness? The battle? And if we add the ring to this mix... _**Do you think I don’t know?**_ You’d be torn in making this decision, as you’ve ever been since you set foot outside the Shire, and it would wear you out! I won’t let you suffer because of me again, even if I have to decide for you!”

“And what would you decide?” Bilbo asks almost inaudibly, and suddenly finds himself kneeling on the grass. He needs the support of the earth beneath him.

“I have not decided,” Thorin answers in an equally soft tone. He kneels with Bilbo and looks around, taking in the garden with its paths and trees and flowers, as if he’s trying to figure out _where_ they are. Where they are in relation to the Arkenstone, to the ring, to the world. To the Mountain, to the Shire, to home. _Where they are_.

“I’d say love was a magical thing  
I’d say love would keep us from pain  
Had I been there, had I been there  
I would promise you all of my life  
But to lose you would cut like a knife  
So I don’t dare, no I don’t dare  
’cause I’ve never come close in all of these years  
You are the only one to stop my tears  
And I’m so scared, I’m so scared  
  
Take me back in time, maybe I can forget  
Turn a different corner and we never would have met  
Would you care  
I don’t understand it, for you it’s a breeze  
Little by little you’ve brought me to my knees  
Don’t you care  
No, I’ve never come close in all of these years  
You are the only one to stop my tears  
I’m so scared of this love  
And if all that there is, is this fear of being used  
I should go back to being lonely and confused  
If I could, I would, I swear”

(George Michael, _A Different Corner_ )


	19. Who Wants to Live Forever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin contemplates spending more time in Mirkwood. He and Bilbo talk about their options and conclude that parting is the best solution. Then they decide to enjoy their last day together.  
> There is an illustration at the end, a painting that Thorin imagines in this chapter.

“There’s no time for us

There’s no place for us

What is this thing that builds our dreams

Yet slips away from us?

There’s no chance for us

It’s all decided for us

This world has only one sweet moment

Set aside for us

Who wants to live forever?

Who dares to love forever

Oh, when love must die?

But touch my tears with your lips

Touch my world with your fingertips

And we can have forever

And we can love forever

Forever is our today

...Who waits forever anyway?”

(Queen, _Who Wants to Live Forever_ )

“I can’t decide alone,” Thorin resigned himself defeatedly. The next moment, he heard Fili and Kili’s voices from the garden’s entrance, asking if they were still scheduled to leave that day. No, he answered, there had been a change of plans and they were going to wait one more day. Then he asked his nephews to accompany Bilbo back inside and ensure that he got breakfast. As he watched Bilbo stand up, he heard Kili nervously trying to articulate a sentence about Tauriel. “Yes, Kili. She can come to Erebor with us,” Thorin anticipated him. The two brothers regarded him with a mix of surprise and pride, _I guess I’m a decent uncle after all_ , and Thorin watched an apprehensive Bilbo leave, no words between them.

“It might be that I can’t decide at all,” he said as he faced the difficulty laid at him. He saw what he had done. This was what doing the right thing amounted to: sharing Bilbo’s secrets, that Thorin had had access to through Mahal’s mercy, secrets from another world, with the Elvenking, who would only use them to further his self-absorbed purpose. _And take_ _ **him**_ _away from me_ , Thorin’s heart wept. _I am such a fool_. They may as well say goodbye forever; the elf king was powerful and persuasive, and would clearly stop at nothing to split them apart. And now Thorin _really_ didn’t have anything to offer Bilbo. If Bilbo went to Erebor and kept the ring, he wouldn’t be able to fight its power. He should be in the Shire, a place immune, or at any rate safer from the ring’s evil, if Thrain’s words were correct.

Bilbo would go to the Shire. It was inevitable. A temporary parting, perhaps; Thorin could always try to find Bilbo there later, _much_ later, but at a time nevertheless, a time that was available in this world... the world in which he hadn’t died. And yet it felt like parting forever.

What Thrain had said... This wasn’t just about Erebor; it sounded like the fate of the world was at stake. _I want to obey you, father._ _Yet_ _I wish I had had the chance to tell you... I’m in love with him. Does that change anything?_

_Is one person worth more than the whole world?_

Thorin stood and moved towards the stone altar that had previously held the Arkenstone, now in a further location of the garden. The altar seemed so familiar to him now, and Thorin felt a measure of comfort in its presence. He stood before it and touched its surface with his right hand. He began tracing its circular shape close to its edges, slowly. After doing so a few times, his hand began to stop in places, briefly, before resuming its motion. It moved like the hand that counts the seconds on a clock, _a clock that is ticking_ , only his hand’s motion was a lot slower, as if it hoped to stop the passing of time. And his hand stopped at 1 o’clock, then at 2 o’clock, then at 3... and despite the calmness of this movement, so precise and controlled, his mind began to race in a wild panic, with scenes unfolding in rapid succession before his eyes, while he could hear the fast ticking of the clock...

* * *

_One_

A raven is perched on the altar, while Thorin is writing a hasty note. _Dear Dain, I need you to stay in Erebor a while longer. I can’t be there right now. There are decisions I have to make that require time. I’ll relieve you of your burden as soon as I can. Thorin. P. S. Kili is bringing an Elf lady. Be kind._

_Two_

He sends Fili and Kili home with Balin, Dwalin, and the aforementioned Elf. He then seeks audience with Thranduil, and asks him for permission to stay longer in his kingdom. _How long?_ Thranduil demands with a raised eyebrow, and Thorin tries for a week...

_Three_

Thorin is in Mirkwood’s library, searching for books on flowers. He grabs a few and returns to his room, where Tauriel has left him some painting materials, at his request.

 _I would try to forge a connection... though I don’t know what materials could be used..._ he remembers hastily.

_Four_

He studies the books meticulously, looking for pictures of the flowers he remembers Bilbo prefers. Thorin only knows their names; now it’s time to actually see what they look like.

_Five_

He begins painting. It’s all just experiments; he will probably not be able to grow such flowers in the Mountain, but he can try to create them in some other way. So he paints his ideas, some carefully informed by the pictures he’s seen in Thranduil’s books, others flowing directly from his subconscious. Some of his resulting “flowers” are lights projected on a wall of different shapes and colors; others are painted on walls, on glass, on rocks... and Thorin doesn’t know which ones are _him_.

_Six_

“Bilbo, I have something to ask of you,” he says as he stands at the entrance to Bilbo’s room. Next, Bilbo is sitting in an armchair in Thorin’s room, staring at the lit fireplace, and Thorin is trying to draw him.

_Seven_

...They are in the garden. The sun is shining. It’s such a beautiful day! Bilbo is sitting on the grass, leaning against a tree, and Thorin is lying at some distance, watching him.

“So, we’re just going to sit like this?”

“Just a little longer.” Thorin hasn’t had enough. He wants to memorize each element, every shape and color. How the light changes Bilbo’s features when the sun illumines him; how happy and carefree Bilbo is when surrounded by nature.

_Eight_

Thorin has not said much. Now, before time is running out, he is determined to say something. Not _I love you_. No, now he _really_ can’t say that. That would only make Bilbo’s decision more difficult. So he is thinking, and it’s not easy with the clock that keeps ticking.

_Nine_

“Can I see it again?”

Bilbo holds the acorn for him, and Thorin takes it in his hand, mistakenly letting a tear drip down. The fruit darkens slightly at the tear’s touch, as if it can feel Thorin’s sadness. “That’s not the way to make it grow, Thorin,” Bilbo scolds lightly. “That’s... not what it needs.”

“What _does_ it need?” Thorin asks in frustration.

“If you have to ask, you’re never going to know,” Bilbo says with a secretive smile.

_Ten_

Thorin spends time in his room, painting, thinking, and something more. He writes Khuzdul notes in a small blue notebook. He fills every page, until the end, writing about Bilbo’s favorite things, and about some of his own as well. Swordfighting. His brother. Fili and Kili. His sister. And Erebor. Always, Erebor.

_Eleven_

It is now close to the end of the week Thranduil granted him. Bilbo comes in and sees paintings spread everywhere, some taped to the walls, some lying on the floor; Thorin has run out of space. “Which ones do you like?” he asks Bilbo. Bilbo picks a few, and Thorin is ecstatic to see among those favorites are the small blue flowers whose persistence in his mind may have helped delay his passing not two months ago. He gives Bilbo some of the chosen paintings and keeps some for himself.

“What is this for?”

“For me. To remind me of you,” Thorin says. It’s not the whole truth. He hopes that Bilbo _will_ come to Erebor one day; knowing what designs he prefers is of utmost importance.

_Twelve_

They spend the last evening together in Bilbo’s room, Thorin playing the harp, Bilbo singing and Thorin writing down the words. Then just sitting in deep silence, enjoying each other’s company. “This is for you,” Thorin says at one point, handing Bilbo the notebook. “So you can remember...” _what we never had_ , he finishes to himself.

“A notebook of written Khuzdul?” Bilbo asks, wide-eyed and hopeful.

“There is more to it than meets the eye,” Thorin says gently. It is a part of him. Everything, everything he could offer as a friend is in this notebook; and there is more to it, that only Thorin knows. The only thing that makes this a “just friends” gift is that he has not written _I love you_.

Bilbo prepares for bed, while Thorin is examining the acorn which is placed on the nightstand. Then Bilbo is lying in bed, ready for sleep, and Thorin sitting by his side, not yet ready to leave. “You’re the most beautiful person I’ve met.” Thorin’s eyes mirror his words. Perhaps this doesn’t make the two of them more than just friends either; it will have to do for now, though.

Bilbo gives him a sweet, encouraging smile. Then Thorin looks at the acorn again; it looks brighter, more vivid now...

* * *

“You’re doing it again.”

Thorin felt a hand on his shoulder. “Losing track of time in this place.” His hand was still placed on the altar, cold and unmoving. “I trust you’re doing something productive?”

He turned to face Bilbo. “I was examining... possibilities. I didn’t get very far.” He looked into Bilbo’s eyes with fierce determination. “Bilbo... I’m going to ask you this once, and I want you to answer me honestly. I see three options for you: you can go back to the Shire, stay here in Mirkwood, or come to Erebor with me. I need you to tell me which one you want for yourself, regardless of what I owe Thranduil. Which one would make you the happiest. Do you understand?” Bilbo only needed to answer Shire or Mirkwood, and the discussion would be at an end, the plan set firmly in stone.

“Just so you know...” Thorin continued, “I’m going to leave the Arkenstone here, no matter what. So that should not influence your decision.”

“Leave it here? But why, when I could stay here or offer him the ring?”

“Because the ring won’t bring his wife back, you said it yourself. And neither you nor the ring are mine to offer. I owe him something for helping Fili and Kili, and the Arkenstone _can_ help him. This feels right to me.”

“Erebor, Thorin,” Bilbo said, appearing blissfully ready to oblige him with an answer. “I thought you knew already. I do want to go back home sometime, of course, but for now going to the Mountain with you is what would make me the happiest. And I’m sure I’d rather not stay in the Woodland Realm. I’ve had enough creepy moments with Thranduil, thank you very much!”

“I would choose the same as you,” said Thorin. “Unfortunately...” It was now time to tell Bilbo of his father’s warnings about the ring coming to Erebor, and that the Arkenstone echoed his reservations. Thorin spoke trying to stay neutral and dispassionate; to his surprise, though, Bilbo was unmoved. “Then I will give the ring to Thranduil. I want to go with you. And I don’t want any harm to come to Erebor.”

“You would part with the ring?!” asked Thorin, completely astounded. He could detect no trace of _I owe you_ _,_ no obligation in Bilbo’s words; only a sincere wish.

“So I could join you in Erebor, if there is no other way, yes, I would.”

 _I didn’t think it was possible to love you more_ , Thorin thought wildly. _But with you... it will probably always be more_. Yet this, like so many other moments, was not a good time to bring such thoughts to light.

“Bilbo... my father also warned me against giving the ring to Thranduil. He said that the ring could cause much evil in his hands. Being in your keeping is what would hold the ring’s power at bay. Also... my father seemed to think the Shire is the best place for you... and the ring. You will be protected from its evil there, and the world would be protected from the ring.”

“Is that what you would have me do?” asked Bilbo, all confidence lost in his voice.

Thorin sighed heavily. “Yes, for now. I think that would be for the best. I would have you leave tomorrow, at the same time that I’d be leaving with Fili and Kili. And... Tauriel,” he added, amused if not somewhat embarrassed. “I’d have Balin and Dwalin accompany you to Beorn’s house, and you could stay there until Spring comes. I’d trust him to offer you good accommodations, and some comfort, and perhaps he can make some of the journey with you.”

“I can’t believe this is happening,” said Bilbo. “This is a very strange situation. What can I say? I suppose this is a good plan, although I can’t say it will work for me _personally_. Anyway, Thorin... how about we don’t decide _today?_ How about we just have a nice time, and I’ll decide in the morning?”

Thorin smiled. “What do you have in mind?”

“Well... this acorn. It needs to be planted soon. It doesn’t look like I’m going to reach the Shire anytime soon, and Erebor sounds out of the question right now. I don’t want to plant it without you, and... since it may be a while until I see you again, it seems today is all I have.”

 _You’d be planting it without me in the Shire_ , Thorin observed silently. Bilbo’s words certainly had an air of mystery. “What are you saying?”

“That we plant it here, today. And maybe _watch it grow_ , if the Arkenstone really is that powerful. Maybe it will grow overnight.” Bilbo gave Thorin an inquisitive look. “How would you feel if I planted it here?”

“It’s your acorn, Bilbo. You can do with it as you wish. But... you would give this wretched elf the satisfaction of having such a precious gift - the tree that would remind you of our adventure?”

“No. Not satisfaction. It’s something else I’d be giving him, Thorin.”

“And what’s that?”

“My way of responding to him. Responding with love to the stupid childish tricks he pulled. My way of telling him that I feel sorry for his loss and I hope my tree will make it better, though I know nothing will. He has lost his everything. He said it himself, nothing really could heal him. He is stuck with living forever; what good is it to live forever, when your love is gone? And yet he persists in sorrow and grief, and a great deal of instability. I pray to Yavanna that I’ll never know what it is like to be him.”

Thorin did not say anything, so Bilbo continued. “It would be a token of gratitude, also. Because, Thorin... wretched as he is, he makes me... he makes me appreciate what I have even more. I have hope. Hope that _my_ love story will turn out well. _End_ well. Or better... that it will never end. And that one day I will be whole. ”

Thorin stared at him with newfound awe. _I never thought I’d meet someone like you._ _And then_ _I didn’t think it would be possible for your soul to shine even more beautifully than I’_ _d_ _already seen it, when you stood between Azog and me. But right now..._ and he was ready to let the words burst out of him, when something else caught his sight. Bilbo was looking towards the statue, and Thorin perceived the source of his alarm as he noticed tears on her face.

“Oh. No, no, no,” Bilbo said gesturing hurriedly. “I didn’t mean to make you cry. Please. If this is not a good idea, I don’t have to do it. I don’t have to plant the acorn here.”

The Arkenstone immediately emitted a sound and shone its rays, spelling words. “It’s saying it’s a very good idea,” said Thorin.

“Oh. All right then.” Bilbo gave the same secretive, mischevious smile Thorin had seen in his mind earlier. “And it may be that we won’t lose anything at all. So, Thorin... is this all right?”

“I like it.”

So they planted the acorn while the sun was still out, then Bilbo went back inside, while Thorin remained in the garden for a little while. He drew closer to the statue and spoke to her for the first time, with respect and also sorrow, and gratitude for the kindness and compassion he felt she bestowed upon that place and all the living things in it. “I wish you would just come back to life. Then Thranduil would probably feel better. And I’d have the Arkenstone back. And I would not have to part with _him_ _._ ” As he voiced his thoughts in reverse order, he took in all the statue’s features, trying to understand _what_ it was that made her look so real, half as if she _was_ already brought back to life. “This is not enough,” Thorin continued, fully absorbed in the statue’s appearance, “for him to truly feel your presence. He needs _you_. Nothing will replicate that. _Nothing_.”

Then he went inside too, packed his things, advised Balin and Dwalin of the change in plan, and thanked Tauriel for the harp and the painting materials. And as the evening set in, he and Bilbo returned to the garden with lots of blankets in their hands and with hope in their hearts that they would watch the tree grow. Yet nothing was happening for the time being, and they were content to stay like that, admiring the nature around them one last time.

As night came, they picked a sleeping spot in the garden, very close to the place where they had planted the acorn. They used some of the blankets to make a bed and some to cover themselves, and agreed they should get some sleep, as they had a long day with journeys ahead of them. If the tree was going to grow overnight, they surely would hear or feel something that would wake them up, and thus wouldn’t miss it. Thorin fell asleep first, and Bilbo was left to wonder where his adventure would take him next...

* * *

Once again, Bilbo could not sleep. How could he? This may be the last night he had with Thorin! The strange conversation with Thranduil, Thorin having a One or not, the ring, decisions, decisions... No, he couldn’t think of any of that. There was one thing staring him in the face, blocking everything else from his sight. This could be the last night. Thorin could have twenty Ones for all Bilbo cared. He was not going to waste this chance, and that was final!

Yet there was Thorin sleeping, a discouraging sight. Bilbo didn’t know that Thorin’s earlier attempt to slow down time had rendered him quite exhausted. He stood up, took one look at Thorin, removed the blanket that covered his back, exposing his blue coat, and walked towards the statue. He had to come up with something, and the first idea he had was to talk with the Arkenstone. _Make it short_ , he told himself. _You don’t have much time. If this doesn’t work, you need a backup plan_.

“So. It looks like I’m leaving tomorrow,” he spoke as he beheld the precious jewel. “There is not much time left until we will probably part, and with all the commotion surrounding our departure I really don’t think I’m going to have a chance to tell him. I love him. Just so there’s no confusion, I’m talking about...” - he pointed to the sleeping Thorin - “that dude over there. Thorin II, son of Thrain, King Under the Mountain. I will always love him. And I want to be with him. But I don’t want it to be rushed... when I tell him. Or for either of us to be conflicted.”

He paused to take a breath, then resumed. “Here’s the thing. That talk with Thranduil earlier was really weird. It sounded like if I lost Thorin I’d write a book, and that I’d write this book as a way of declaring my love. That’s all well and good, except... well, when we were taking to Thranduil, I felt like I _wrote_ this book already. And I knew that and what the book contained. So maybe that’s a big deal, me, writing a book. Maybe that needs to happen even if he’s _not_ dead. Not to mention I may _want_ to write it.”

 _Bilbo Baggins, you’re talking too much. Get to the point_.

Yet Bilbo liked to be thorough. “And Thorin is going back to the Mountain. With or without the presence of the ring, I know he is vulnerable. I know the madness may come back. So what I’m going to do now... I hope it will help him. This was one thing I really wanted to do, if nothing else: to be there to protect him from that evil. And now it seems that my presence - because of that blasted ring - would only make him worse. So... I want to be there for him, in another way. I want to do something special, and you are... pretty special.”

The Arkenstone gave no reaction, so he continued. “I want you to write. On him, that is. I’m going to try to say some words - everything good that I can think of - and I’d like you to translate them into Khuzdul and write them _on him_ with your light. I have hope that your light will protect him, at least for a while. Not to mention...” he chuckled nervously here, “I hope my words can wake him up. Will you help me?”

 _ALL RIGHT,_ the Arkenstone spelled. _HE’S FAR FROM US, THOUGH._

“Oh. Yes. I guess your rays can’t reach that far?”

The Arkenstone shone its rays as a test; they reached Thorin, but their light was dim, and Bilbo was not satisfied. He touched the Arkenstone and tried to take it out of the statue’s hand; but the jewel was firmly enclosed in, the hand slightly forming a fist. “I need more light,” Bilbo said, not sure whom he was addressing this time. “By any chance... have the two of you become friends in the meantime?” He shifted his gaze from the statue’s face back to the Arkenstone. “Can you tell her to help?”

The Arkenstone made no answer, so Bilbo touched the statue’s hand instead and asked, “Can _you_ please help?”

The Arkenstone waited a moment, then answered. _THE WORDS, FIRST._

“Oh. All right. Here’s what I want to say.” He took a deep breath, with a serious and solemn air as if he was taking a marriage vow, and began.

“Thorin... _I feel you_.

You’re in everything I see. In the air that I breathe; in every stone, in every river and in every leaf. In this garden and in this light that is now shining on you; and in the Mountain itself that is so dear to you. And in this tree that has not yet grown, and in the stars above it. And if I am to return to the Shire, you’ll be there too, in the sun and the grass and the flowers. When I breathe, you breathe with me. And when I don’t... you will continue to breathe. You will always _be_.

And if you’ve really known me across multiple worlds, as I have a feeling you have after that really trippy stuff earlier... then know this: that book I wrote... I’m sure it was nice and good, and it spoke of Orcs and Goblins and spiders and what-not; but it’s not the book I’ll be writing in _this_ world. In this world, my book will be blended with _life_ ; with _you._ But even _that_ book... it was all for you. It was my way of telling you I love you.”

Then he touched the Arkenstone again, affectionately, and said: “Please shine your rays on him and infuse him with your light, and let these words penetrate him deeply. Create a shield to protect him against all evil. Let them enter, and with them, please, let my love in. _Ifil amralime ni_ ,” he spoke hopefully.

The Arkenstone made a sound like a _clink, clink, clink_ , perhaps approving of his impeccable use of Khuzdul. The statue opened her fist a little, allowing the Arkenstone to shine brighter, fuller rays, and glowing blue runes started pouring onto Thorin’s hair and back, and Bilbo watched in fascination how the words were being written. _You’re the most beautiful book I’ve seen, Thorin_ , he thought with great joy, and then he said those words out loud. “Or read... or wrote. I love you, Thorin Oakenshield. In this and every world. Always and forever.”

The Arkenstone wrote everything, and then the statue’s fist closed again slightly, and Bilbo stood there, perfectly bewildered. “Thank you,” he said to them, shaking with reverence. “I will never forget this. At least I had a witness; _two_ witnesses, actually. Now someone _knows_ I love him. That is no small thing.” Then he looked towards Thorin, who still exhibited no sign of waking upon him. “He’s a really heavy sleeper, isn’t he?” he said with a resigned sigh. He bowed to his two witnesses and returned to his love, lying next to him.

Bilbo positioned himself slightly above Thorin, facing him, and began caressing his hair. “The tree is not growing, Thorin,” he whispered. “Nothing is happening. I think the Arkenstone wants to help, but the acorn needs something more, and there is only one person in this world that can offer it. And I don’t know how to ask for this thing.”

Bilbo didn’t know this, but if Thorin wasn’t worried night and day about his kin’s health, or on a stressful quest trying to keep a low profile from warg scouts and orcs, he slept like a log. Yet Bilbo continued fearlessly, determined to try everything he could; and the following was certainly not something he could have shared with the Arkenstone or with Thranduil's wife! “You know what else? I really liked it when you kissed me the other night. And I wouldn’t mind it if you did it again. I wish that so much. _Mahazrul... ma... haz... rul..._ ”

...At the sound of Khuzdul on Bilbo’s lips Thorin opens his eyes wide, and now it seems like he never slept at all. “What do you wish?” he asks, his voice soft and calm. “Name it. Anything.”

”I wish...”

Where is Thorin? Suddenly Bilbo realizes how close they are, and how little matters now. _I_ _ **want**_ _it to be me. I want to be the one to start this. It’s the last night, most likely. The plan seems to be set._ _What’s the harm in living for one night as if it were forever?_ His eyes are closed, and he is kissing Thorin with passion, as if he wants to transfer it to him, that love that started out as admiration and grew into respect, and friendship, and comfort and peace, but that is now love and cruel wanting. _I am not afraid of Thorin_ , and he feels Thorin’s hands push his slightly towards his back, just like last time. Thorin is letting him kiss him while seeming careful and composed, pleasantly surprised at Bilbo’s initiative and hesitant at the same time. He feels Thorin’s hands on his hair, on his ears, as if framing his head, and next Thorin is touching every inch of him...

Thorin rolls on his back, laying Bilbo on top of him, and his fingers are touching Bilbo’s hair very slowly, as if he wants to immortalize every strand, while Bilbo continues to kiss him. ”Come with me,” Bilbo hears, and perhaps now he can see that Thorin has willed himself to sleep precisely so it wouldn’t get to this point, for he _knew_ that if they got close again all his resolve would fade, “I can’t let you go, I can’t...” “And the ring?” Bilbo asks in disbelief. “I’ll find a way. There has to be a way,” Thorin says, and that is the end of their discussion...

Then Thorin rolls them again on the side, and is now kissing him, and it’s violently passionate, that part of him that Bilbo has seen plenty of in other circumstances is finally manifesting, so intense that it feels like the ground is shaking, an earthquake in Thorin’s whirl of emotions. And it turns out some of this shaking _is_ real, for they hear a rumble and feel the ground move beneath them. As they lift their eyes and turn their gaze toward the planting spot just a few inches away, they see a stem emerging out of the ground and becoming taller and taller, and now it’s getting wider and it’s no longer a stem but a trunk, and branches start emerging, spreading like arms upwards and to the sides. They take a few steps back to behold the miraculous sight, and Thorin now stands behind Bilbo, holding him and speaking in his ear, “Remember this, Bilbo,” his words betray a sense of urgency, “You see this... The Arkenstone has given life. And it can do so again. It can give life again. Please, remember this,” and he leans forward to kiss him, “ _’ala zann ikhthuzul_ ,” Thorin says in a chanting tone, “this night will endure,” and they forget about the tree for a few seconds, then Thorin retakes his position behind Bilbo and turns him towards the tree again. Now they see the first fruit appear on one of the tree’s branches, along with leaves, and Bilbo turns to him for a second. “You still think the Arkenstone did it?” and touches Thorin’s face in amazement...

...Thorin and Bilbo slept under the tree, in each other’s arms, for the rest of the night, tears of happiness dried on their faces and heavenly bliss, finally, warming the air around them. In the morning they beheld the tree once again, and saw it had grown more fruit, and Bilbo, who had thought of this all along, remarked immediately, “You see, Thorin? Nothing was lost. One for you, one for me.”

Thorin stood and collected two acorns from the tree, and gave one to Bilbo. “I’ve got it,” he said with much excitement as he pushed a strand of hair from Bilbo’s forehead, only to see it stubbornly come back. “I know what to do with the ring. Come with me. When we get to Erebor I’ll tell you what we’ll do.”

Bilbo eyed him with caution. _What if I don’t like your idea?_ his eyes seemed to say.

“Trust me,” Thorin spoke, simple yet powerful words, with no trace of uncertainty.

“I trust you,” said Bilbo, feeling Thorin’s determination. Nothing, ever, could stand in its way. And they went and retrieved the ring from where Thorin had buried it, under the red-flowered bush, and placed it in Bilbo’s pocket. They made a brief stop at the site of the statue, bowed twice reverently, and walked out of the garden, hand in hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All Khuzdul is from [www.dwarrowscholar.com](https://www.dwarrowscholar.com)


	20. Return

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> During their journey back to Erebor, Bilbo reflects on his time in Mirkwood while Thorin revisits childhood memories and questions his ability to handle the responsibilities of what’s to come. As they reach the Mountain, they also reach a decision concerning the fate of the ring.

As they walked out of the garden, Thorin and Bilbo saw Thranduil approach with an inquisitive look, that turned to stupefied upon seeing their interlocked hands. All parties came to a halt, and Thranduil spoke.

“I hear you are leaving today, King Thorin. Since it’s clear you are not letting go of Mister Baggins, it’s probably too much to hope that I may gain possession of his precious ring. Alas, at least the Arkenstone is still here.”

“Indeed,” said Thorin. “And it will remain here for the time being. I sincerely wish it will aid you in your purpose, and I thank you for restoring my nephews’ health. May your days be blessed. By the way... you now have _three_ precious things in your garden, King Thranduil. _One_ of them is yours; may you cherish it as it is fit.”

While Bilbo wondered if the Elvenking really understood which object Thorin had meant was his, Thranduil gazed into the distance and saw the proud, tall oak tree arisen from the ground. “What is the meaning of this? I don’t recall ordering any additions to the garden.”

“For you, King Thranduil,” Bilbo said sweetly. “Something to add to the magic power that already exists in your garden. I thank you for your hospitality and for...” He had to bite his tongue not to add _for bringing me closer to Thorin_. “When you do get your wife back, let us know. I would love to meet her. As for me and you, may we meet again as friends!”

“You seem confident that she’ll come back,” Thranduil remarked.

“I have seen a lot of miracles in the last few weeks,” said Bilbo.

Thranduil bowed to them slightly, with a pained expression on his face. They responded in kind and watched him enter the garden and go straight to the oak tree, and it was a while until anyone could tear him away from the sight.

They left for Erebor an hour later. Tauriel joined them; she was going to continue to supervise the young Durins’ healing as well as pursue her romance with Kili. Their departure was uneventful, except that they all noticed Thranduil’s absence and heard Elves around them whispering that their King’s demeanor today was _stranger than usual. He seemed a bit gone, his gaze was lingering in the distance, he looked confused and lost, as if he had forgotten something really important_. Yet Thorin and company paid no mind to those last minute observations; the Lonely Mountain was waiting for them. And while the Dwarves and the Elf in the Company seemed ecstatic to be received in its embrace, Bilbo began reflecting on his time in Mirkwood.

He had obtained what he had wished for: a night with Thorin. And what a night it had been! It was strange how remembering it allowed for only fleeting bits and pieces...

He could remember the smell of the air, so fresh, so new, mixed with the smell of an actual tree growing, the stem, the leaves emerging before his eyes as Thorin’s hair was blocking some of the sight; the light of the Arkenstone, the statue that seemed to have moved briefly; the acorn grown in a matter of seconds while he and Thorin had kissed in that glow; Thorin’s voice as if presiding over the miracle, steady and full of so much certainty, assuring him that _this was real_...

The first time they had kissed, in Thorin’s room... Bilbo had not been completely sure it was real. But _this_... There was no trace of doubt.

It wasn’t just that this time a tree had grown right then and there - a tree that was still there in the morning to witness - that ensured that their closeness had not been merely a dream; and not just that their closeness was, Bilbo thought, part of what had led to that miraculous occurrence. No, what made it believable beyond any doubt was that he, Bilbo, had been different this time.

He had no longer been double-minded; no longer unsure or torn. He knew his own mind this time, while the first time he had been almost consumed by the power of the ring, and thus only half himself. Thankfully, another _half_ had stepped in and helped him feel whole, but still... he could not deny the presence of shadows and doubt that carried into the next few days...

Yet last night, free of the ring for a few days as he had been, he had stepped out of the shadows and embraced _the light_ , and realized the fullness of his love for Thorin. He let it manifest wholeheartedly, with utmost sincerety, even at the risk of being rejected (a danger he was all too happy to laugh at now); and no more wine-related questions or doubts did he have afterwards! No, it was _there_ , Thorin and him, whatever they were now, they were _more_ , and he knew it was, in part, because _he_ had been honest with himself.

It felt so good! He had to stop and wonder if it _still_ felt this way now that the ring was back in his pocket, with no idea where it was going to end up other than that Thorin had a plan. No idea, other than knowing that he couldn’t leave Thorin _now_.

Will he be able to keep his resolve to part with the ring, if Thorin asked it?

One thing that Bilbo was not entirely happy about was that these days he never had any time to rest properly and process what was happening to him. And this time, oh, how he would have liked to perhaps have a few more days in Mirkwood, just so he could stare at the beautiful oak tree and remember each moment spent with Thorin in its presence! As it was, they were on the go again, just as they had been almost as soon as Thorin had woken up after the battle; another rush, and the same feeling that life was too busy to be savored in its full flavor.

 _I’m not complaining, though_ , he thought prudently. _When I get to Erebor, there will be more such moments, and I’ll have plenty of time to remember things properly_.

 _You have time to change your mind, Halfling_ , he heard Thranduil’s voice from during one of their conversations, when he once again had refused the Elvenking’s offer. _Perhaps when the coldness of Erebor_ _’s walls sufficiently freezes your skin, or when you find yourself bored in your Shire, far from adventure and good company, we shall have words again!_

He shuddered. Maybe Thranduil was right and he won’t survive in the Mountain. It was true, the first time he had set foot in that Mountain he had been less than thrilled. It was cold, dark and unwelcoming, a _nasty clockless, timeless hole_ he had called it. All he could think of for comfort was his beloved Shire. _It’s not natural. You need sunlight. You need warmth. And Thorin can hardly provide these things, as he’ll be swamped with work. You know this, Bilbo Baggins. He won’t have time for you._ As he contemplated these thoughts with much apprehension, he told himself that surely Thorin’s gold madness had added to that uneasy feeling the first time around; it will be different this time. _Warm and sunny Erebor may not be, but having a happy and healthy Thorin next to me will be enough_.

 _Will it?_ he heard that voice, his own voice that liked to create trouble, though with good intentions, a voice that liked to examine all possible scenarios, to be thorough and prepared, and leave no stone unturned - he laughed at the pun - _well. I’m going to follow my heart and that is that; we can ask questions later_.

But the doubt didn’t stop there. Returning to the Mountain could bring about another kind of... Thorin’s madness returning was still a possibility, a certainty if the voice in his dreams was to be believed, which would render this journey the beginning of his worst nightmare.

_You are changed, Thorin!_

_The Dwarf I met in Bag End would have never gone back on his word!_

_He would have never doubted the loyalty of his kin!_

At least the Arkenstone was out of the way, for now. If he were honest, he’d admit he was relieved at that, though Thorin had already proven that he cared more about him than about a stone! His mind clearly was no longer in its grip. So much was different, and he trusted Thorin this time. But... the Arkenstone being _out of the way_ hadn’t stopped Thorin’s madness the first time.

 _I won’t let him fall again_ , Bilbo thought. _And Gandalf... Gandalf removed the spell…_

_**Supposedly** _ _. Gandalf sometimes says one thing and does another, you know this by now._

_I will protect him._ But what power did he have?

_I love him._

_You love Thorin Oakenshield. But that Thorin may be gone as soon as he enters the Mountain._

_**Our love** _ _will protect him. It will protect both of us. I’ve never experienced anything more powerful._

“Bilbo, can I have a word with you?”

It was evening. They had stopped to camp for the night, and Thorin had gone in search for firewood, when he saw Balin approach him with his usual good cheer.

“How are you?” he asked simply. “You’ve gone through a lot these past few months.”

“I’m afraid, Balin,” Bilbo decided to cut to the point quickly. “Let’s just say the Mountain did not seem friendly the first time I... visited. Yet Thorin... I remember how happy he was when he opened the Hidden Door and entered. He is like that again now, I can feel it; his anticipation, his eagerness is certainly contagious! And yet... I’m not a Dwarf, you know. I’m just a little apprehensive as to how this Mountain is going to feel to me.”

“The evil has retreated, Bilbo. All is safe now in Erebor, and rebuilding will give us much to look forward to. You’ll see, it will be an adventure in itself, if you choose to stay to witness it. Or even to help us with it,” Balin added with a wink.

“I will surely stay for _some_ of it,” Bilbo replied.

“I know you were feeling homesick a lot during our quest,” said Balin. “I imagine you still long for your cozy Shire?”

“Not as much. It’s really not that. It’s just... I still worry about Thorin. As bad as that Elvenking was at times, I feel like Thorin had a bit of a reprieve there. Erebor is a whole different story.”

“Do not worry, Bilbo. Thorin and the Mountain are deeply connected. They will protect each other; and thus our people will be protected as well, which is what he will be most focused on.”

“But the gold...” Bilbo began hesitantly. “The gold is still there, Balin. Aren’t you afraid of what it can do to him?”

Balin did not give a straight answer. “We’ll all watch for the gold’s effects on Thorin, and act at once if we see anything off. We’ll take better care of him this time, Bilbo; we’re much better prepared.”

Thorin was back soon, and just like Balin he approached Bilbo and inquired how he was doing and if he was ready to see Erebor again. This gave Bilbo an opportunity to ask him something that had been pressing in his mind.

“Thorin, do you think… Do you think your life will change a whole lot once you get there? I mean, you’ll have lots of responsibilities and worries. Restoring your kingdom… watching over your nephews, welcoming newcomers, treating with allies… I wonder if I’m even going to see you.”

“You are welcome to take part in all of those. If you don’t wish it, I would have you relax and study whatever you like. I’ll do whatever I can to make sure you’ll feel comfortable in the Mountain. As for how my schedule will be…”

“Wait. You would share your responsibilities with me?”

“I would, if you’ll have them.”

“But would _you_ want me to…”

“I wouldn’t impose anything on you. In an ideal world…” Thorin stopped suddenly.

“In an ideal world…?” Bilbo insisted, waiting patiently for a response.

“There is much that I want to share with you.”

“Thanks, Thorin. I don’t know what makes you so confident in me. I will think on it.”

Thorin turned from him and looked for a long moment at the fire that was just being started, and Bilbo wondered at the sudden change. He wanted to hold him and not let go for a long time, yet he was not ready to do that with Balin and Dwalin around. So he went and sat by the fire and joined in the singing, laughter and conversation that soon ensued among the Company.

* * *

Thorin was going home.

This was not new; he had _gone home_ once. Very recently. He had felt that thrill, a vivid memory in his mind. And he knew a certain blindness surrounded him that first time around. To have the chance to do this again...

There was a legend that Thorin and his siblings had read in his youth, in which a young prince left his parents’ home in search of youth without aging and life without end. During his journeys, he met and fell in love with a beautiful princess who lived with her two sisters in a heaven-like place. _Come and live with us_ , the three women invited him, _and you will find what you seek_. He went with them, and for years unnumbered he lived there in perfect peace and marriage bliss, without aging a day. There was only one thing he needed to remember: to never set foot in a place called the Valley of Tears, or else a dangerous longing could take over him... And one day, due to a _careless oversight_ , he did venture there, and was hit with the desire to see his parents and his childhood home again.

His wife and sisters-in-law immediately perceived what was wrong, and he didn’t bother denying the feeling consuming him. He begged them to let him go and see his parents’ house one more time; in vain did they insist that he would find _nothing_ there, since the years had long passed since anyone was even alive in his father’s kingdom. The prince’s heart was set on going home, with a longing impossible to fend off. _I will not linger there_ , he promised. _I will come back very shortly_.

He set out on his journey, and the more he was approaching his childhood home, the more he was aging. When he finally got there, he found a house in ruins, full of dust and spider webs, and no living beings. There was much desolation and sadness upon the land, and his eyes were small now and he could barely see, and his beard, white as snow, reached the floor. He came across an old chest and was curious to look inside, so he opened it. A small figure, like a charicature, jumped out of the chest and said, _I’m so glad you came; for if you had delayed another minute, I myself would have perished_. And thus death took him...

Thorin contemplated this legend during his present journey home. Oh, it was so obvious: Finding love while on a quest, then not being able to hold on to it due to a _careless oversight_ , then death finding him... _all_ of that had been _his_ story, without a doubt. How fortunate that by Mahal and Yavanna’s grace he had been given another chance! And he let himself remember more, the image of his childhood home resurfacing in his mind, his brother and sister happy and carefree...

“I wouldn’t set out on such a journey to begin with,” Frerin had said. “I wouldn’t leave my parents’ home for some elusive dream. Talk about a cautionary tale. Look how it turned out. The prince didn’t get the home _and_ lost the princess in the end!”

“ _I_ would,” Dis had countered. “Thanks to his journey, the prince found more than he had hoped for: not only endless life, but love as well. True, he lost both in the end, but I heard it said that it’s better to have loved and lost than to not have loved at all! At least he can say that he tried and was successful, even if through his own carelessness he wasn’t able to keep those gifts.”

“What do you think, Thorin?...”

_Carelessness. Does that word not describe you, son of Thrain?_

“I already know who my love is,” he had said, pointing to his then-sword. “And I trust our Maker would give us something close to life without end if we really wanted it. He made us to endure. Leaving home willy-nilly like that... I don’t think so. Not for me.”

“You _think_ you know who your love is,” Dis responded again. “Maybe the prince in the story thought the same initially; and he wouldn’t have known any better had he not taken a chance and gone on his journey.”

“You have a point, sister,” Thorin had conceded affectionately. “I wouldn’t take much stock in this story, though; for all we know it’s an Elvish tale disguised as a Dwarvish legend, designed to confuse us with some circular logic. I know very well what’s in front of me.”

His home away from home had been the Blue Mountains; he had made a life for himself and his people there. What had been missing? It wasn’t Erebor, the place with chambers filled with golden light, the greatest kingdom in Middle Earth. But to Thorin it was more than that. Just like for the prince in the story, it was his true _home_. Yet when he had seen the remains of his dead kin two months before, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d end up like the prince in the legend...

Will he die before the restoration is complete? Or cave to the gold madness? Then it would be better to stay away from the Mountain, wouldn’t it?

Did he have what it took to keep evil away from the Mountain?

As he felt his love’s hand on his, a reminder of the soft that overcomes the hard, he realized that the prince’s tale was Bilbo’s story, too. Did Bilbo find love during his journey? Was he happy to have left his home? What will he find when he gets back, or perhaps he won’t want to go back if only...?

The person who could give him “youth without aging and life without end”, the person who was an endless source of renewal and growth within him, who had been _with him_ during the entire quest, by his side even as he beheld the bodies of his kin... He had not cherished this person properly. He had been too engrossed in his purpose, so taken with it that he all but missed his own feelings. A _careless oversight_ , that almost led to his downfall.

But now... he wasn’t going to fail again. His treasure of all treasures, his _heart_ \- no one else could claim this title; he was certain he knew whom it belonged to. And yet it remained a difficulty to balance the passion he felt for this person and the burden of dealing with this _home_. Was it really a _home_ that Thorin could offer him? Or just desolation and decay, the complete opposite of youth without aging and life without end, which were much more likely to be found in the safe, idyllic Shire? Too many unanswered questions. _My actions_ , he thought. _The answers lie in my actions_...

* * *

It was evening when they reached the gates of Erebor, and Thorin was quick to send his fellow travelers inside while he and Bilbo remained there to discuss the fate of the ring.

“I am going to list three options,” he spoke to Bilbo in a low, even voice. “Here is the first: We send ravens to the Shire with the ring, and they’ll drop it down your chimney in Bag End. My father indicated that the world will be safe if the ring stays in the Shire; your house is empty, and you once told me that you like to think your parents’ spirits guard that house, protecting it with their love. I trust that no evil will come to it. And Bilbo... if you should want to return home one day, you will have the ring again.”

“What if I’m not comfortable with this? Having the ring in no one’s possession is a bit risky. I’m not saying the ring can grow legs and leave my house, but still...” said Bilbo, beginning to feel very uneasy.

“Then we can give it to my cousin Dain for safe-keeping until you wish to go back to the Shire. My father indicated that the ring would cause trouble in the hands of an Elf or a Man; he said nothing about Dwarves. I don’t think we are so easily corrupted. I would trust Dain fully, and he will not stay in the Mountain. He’ll be leaving in the next few days; in the meantime we’ll have time to explain the situation to him.”

Bilbo was quiet. It hurt to see how difficult it was to part with the ring. _I would part with the ring so I can join you in Erebor_ , he had said to Thorin in Mirkwood. Then what had changed?? _Oh. I didn’t have the ring on me when I said that. I was free. While now... it’s back. I can feel this need to hold on to it._

“What about your third option?”

“The third and last resort is we enter the Mountain as we are.”

“So you are ready to risk the fate of your Mountain? The fate of your people? I am surprised at you, Thorin.” _Do you see? The evil has already started to do its work in you. That’s the_ _ **wrong**_ _answer, Thorin. And I suspect if your father is right, the ring is partly to blame_. _**I**_ _am partly to blame for your carelessness._

“I hope it won’t come to that,” said Thorin. “I defeated the gold madness after all. The thing is, Bilbo... we can try to enter as we are, and see what happens, and if the ring does cause trouble we can always send it to the Shire as I suggested, or give it to Dain. Those options remain. The reason why I’m entertaining this idea, despite my father’s warning, is...” he fidgeted uncomfortably and stopped, searching for words, looking a bit lost.

“What is it?”

“I... You recall how badly I wanted the Arkenstone, and how... upset I was when I learned that...” he couldn’t continue.

“That I took it from you, and all that?” Bilbo tried to be helpful.

“Right. The point is... even if you did have my interest at heart, and did what you did with purely noble intentions... I still would have preferred if you had just given me the Arkenstone and let me do as I saw fit. You see... it was _mine_. That’s how I perceived it, and I’m not saying that I was right. And so... I try to put myself in your situation. You view this ring as yours. You are attached to it. It may bring evil, just like the Arkenstone may have brought to me. And I, out of purely good reasons, want to protect you and others from it. That is all well and good, but I don’t want to decide for you. You should be the only one to decide, because it is _yours_. And if you decide to keep it, then so be it.”

That stung, Thorin finally telling him like it was. Bilbo gave a quiet sigh. Would he never be free of this? Yet. Thorin really did have a point.

“Thank you, Thorin. I see what you are saying. Perhaps giving the ring to your ravens is a good idea. But I’m telling you,” and now Bilbo’s face became fierce as if facing a menacing invisible enemy, “my cousin Lobelia Sackville-Baggins probably watches my house like a hawk as it is. If the ring winds up with her in my absence...”

“I’ll have your house watched too,” said Thorin. “I’ll order my ravens to remain outside it, and if anything suspicious happens they will report back to me, not to mention they will know where the ring is and will be able to retrieve it if need be. As for your cousin... I can’t imagine the ring will do much harm through her. It sounds like Hobbits are not affected in the same way as Elves or Men.”

“Oh, she’s evil all right,” said Bilbo, unconvinced...

...In a close, somewhat less complicated possible universe, the ravens were summoned and the ring was sent away from the Mountain. Things were peaceful for a while in the Shire after the ring arrived and was dropped down the chimney at Bag End. Until three months later, when Bilbo was declared dead and an auction was initiated, upon which Lobelia ransacked the house looking for silver and gold, and her eagle eyes caught sight of the ring in the fireplace, and she immediately seized it. In the commotion caused by the auction, the ravens did not notice this detail, and since Lobelia exited Bag End peacefully at the end of the day, they didn’t suspect anything. It was later, when things of value started disappearing systematically from other hobbits’ homes, and eventually capable Shire detectives were able to identify the not-always-visible thief, that the ravens were able to put two and two together and regretfully informed Thorin of the unhappy developments. How things played out between Bilbo and Lobelia _if_ he decided to return home and get his ring back, whether Lobelia Sackville-Baggins, declared “Wanted: Notorious Bandit” was ever caught by the Shire police, and perhaps more importantly, whether the destruction of the world was kept at bay in the Shire or brought about sooner by Lobelia’s actions, all of this belongs in another story that will be told another time.

In our story, Bilbo and Thorin continued debating for a while longer, and eventually concluded that giving the ring to Dain was the most sensible solution. Interestingly, a way in which the world in our story is similar to the one described above is that the ravens _were_ actually summoned and sent to the Shire, albeit for a different purpose: Bilbo wished to have his baby acorn planted there as soon as possible. So he instructed the ravens as to the exact place he wanted the future tree to grow in, placed the acorn in a small pouch and gave it to the ravens to carry to Bag End. Thorin marveled at this rush, and was quite curious to know the reason for it. “Since we were just about to send an evil thing to my homeland, and then changed our minds, why not send a _good thing_ instead,” Bilbo divulged, trying to explain his rationale while it was obvious he was keeping a part to himself. Then he reflected with some emotion, “We always try to fight evil. To identify problems and try to remove them. But how about just doing something _good_ , just like that, with no clear purpose other than just to do good? Perhaps your ravens can stay there for a little while and observe,” he said enigmatically, “if anything curious happens...”

And so, after sending the ravens on their way with the acorn, they entered the Mountain, and found the rest of the Company leading various endeavors, of which cooking a big welcoming feast was an important one. Rooms had been prepared for the king and the company that traveled with him, and Bilbo was happy to discover that now he was the temporary owner of a cozy room with an armchair, a fireplace, books and a nice big bed. He was amazed to learn that this had all been ordered by Thorin through correspondence from Mirkwood!

While Thorin became engaged in conversation with Dain as soon as dinner started, Bilbo spent the rest of the evening enjoying the feast and catching up with Bofur, Ori and Gloin. The lively atmosphere he found in the Mountain looked promising, and he forgot his worries and truly enjoyed himself fully, infinitely grateful for such happy times. At the end of the feast, though he seemed not even nearly finished talking to Dain, Thorin came up to him, asking if he could walk him to his room. So they went together, and Thorin stayed with him for a while, wanting to make sure everything was to Bilbo’s liking.

Bilbo beamed at him with much gratitude for such a splendid evening, but soon deflated when he heard Thorin say, “I have to go soon. The Company, Dain and some of his dwarves are waiting for me. We have lots to discuss. I’m afraid this will take up the better part of my night.”

“I understand, of course.”

“Fili and Kili are located next door from you, and Balin and Dwalin are on the other side. If there is anything giving you trouble, anything at all, you only need go to one of them. Or to me, of course; I am next door from the boys, though as I said, I may not be there tonight, unfortunately.”

“Thanks, Thorin,” Bilbo said, words that sounded dull and empty. No doubt, spending nights together here in the Mountain was out of the question. There were probably guards on every corridor close to the king’s quarters, who would see Thorin go to Bilbo’s room and not leave until the morning... which was probably unacceptable, thought Bilbo with a sigh. Not that it was granted that Thorin would even want to do such a thing! A terrible need took hold of him, to _never_ let Thorin go...

“I will see you at breakfast,” Thorin continued, seemingly oblivious to his uneasiness. He took Bilbo’s hand and brought it to his lips in a solemn gesture, his eyes full of uncertainty, and Bilbo saw a small chance.

“ _Inmi e, Thorin_ ,” he said boldly as he looked deeply into his love’s eyes.

Thorin leaned down and put one arm around him in a gentledwarfly manner, the other still holding Bilbo’s hand. “Where,” he said with a smile as he began kissing him, “did you learn this word? I certainly did not teach it to you.”

Bilbo knew where he had learned the word, but didn’t want to share that with Thorin. “I... Well, you definitely taught me a thing or two about it,” he said, happy to have found an easy escape.

“ _Albuth anum astû_ ,” came Thorin’s reply, and Bilbo could not quite make out the meaning, but did not argue with what followed it. Thorin stayed a little longer, and at some point removed his blue coat and offered it to Bilbo. “You should have this,” he said. “For tonight.”

“No,” said Bilbo with some concern. In his mind, that coat was still infused with the Arkenstone’s light, and he was not going to have Thorin part with it. “No, Thorin. You already gave me something precious to wear. I want _you_ to wear the coat, even at night if possible.” _It will protect you_.

Thorin wrapped the coat around Bilbo anyway, and they stayed like that for a minute, glued perfectly together with no space left between them. Then Bilbo lay in bed, and Thorin watched over him until he looked like he was ready to fall asleep. Then Thorin let go of his hand and whispered, “Soon, my heart. I will be able to do this properly. I can only pray that what I’ll have to offer will be acceptable to you.” And he took his coat and left the room to go where his duties awaited, with hope in his heart that the Mountain would make a suitable home for his love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve written a fast-paced one-shot piece called [Stealing Beauty](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28184322) that explores Lobelia Sackville-Baggins’ dealings with the ring and Bilbo and Thorin’s efforts to retrieve it in the alternate universe where the ring is sent back to the Shire. Please feel free to check it out; I hope you enjoy it!!


	21. The Mystery of Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> During his first night back in Erebor, Bilbo finally gets to remember and really take in the moments of closeness he shared with Thorin in the last few weeks, and begins to grasp a higher understanding of their connection. These moments (some of which are “extended scenes” with Bilbo and Thorin in Mirkwood, others going back to Dale and the Quest) are presented here in a raw and non-linear way, just as Bilbo remembers them, accompanied by his reflections.
> 
> As we move towards a new part, with its own setting, themes and a particular tone fitting the Dwarrow dwelling that is the great kingdom of Erebor, we can view this chapter as a bridge between the two parts.

Bilbo was beginning to doze off when the sound of the door closing as Thorin made his way out of the room woke him. It took him a while to figure out where he was, a new environment, a nice, big, comfortable bed, a warm fireplace, a dark room with no windows...

And Bilbo began to realize that this was his first night in Erebor, and his mind began to settle at a slower pace, more patient, more desiring to stay in one moment and take it in, to catch his own thoughts and meditate on them, and to eternalize his memories as if putting a picture in a frame; and he found that he finally had that time he had wished for, to reminisce about the last few weeks, to _figure things out_ , but more than anything to relive those moments... As he let out a deep exhale he began to think of one person, to remember him and the two of them together in an unfiltered, unrestrained way, in no particular order, with the hope of deciphering what it all meant...

He could still feel Thorin’s presence inundate the air, Thorin sitting by his side waiting for him to fall asleep, his head buried in the sheets, kissing his hand, reaching for his heart, or was it his voice softly rumbling something about _heart_

_...I would rather be without the Arkenstone than be without you_.

They are in Mirkwood, sitting outside the palace, and Bilbo is shaking after having met with Thranduil one on one the first time. Thorin brings Bilbo’s head to his chest and starts tracing a pattern on his back, up and down... Bilbo presses his head against Thorin’s heart, and is suddenly feeling better; it appears Thorin is the one who is unsettled now. He places his hands on Thorin’s chest and can now feel his heart calm. _Trust_ is the name of this moment, _trust, always_ , he hears in his mind, words that sound as if they are being formed in Thorin’s _heart_ this time, _trust, to the end_. Bilbo looks at him in astonishment, and it feels like the sun and the moon are shining on the Hidden Door all over again, and that it is going to open once more... But it is Thorin’s heart that opens, somehow, and lets Bilbo hear its sounds, yet in the next moment Thorin calls him _my heart sound_ , does that mean that all that Bilbo hears is himself? No, that cannot be, for Thorin’s heart is an _open_ heart, not a mirror in which all one can see is oneself; it is a portal one can peek through and maybe see something new...

_Was there a time when I opened his heart?..._

...It is the night of their first kiss, and Bilbo manages to write what he wished to write on Thorin’s chest, _Give me your love_ in Khuzdul. The last rune touches the place of Thorin’s heart, and Bilbo feels something happening in his own heart, like a door opening. _We will use paper... until Khuzdul enters_ _ **here**_ , Thorin had said during their first lesson as he touched Bilbo’s heart.

Perhaps all this means that now both of their hearts beat in Khuzdul. Is that all?...

Thorin tries to help him take off the ring; Bilbo’s hand closes in a fist and does not release the pressure until Thorin speaks the right words, something about light, and the sun, and about Thorin’s unwavering desire to protect him. Only these words can penetrate through the cold wall that surrounds the ring...

And now it’s their last night in Mirkwood, and he is trying to get the statue to open its stone fist and let the light of the Arkenstone shine on Thorin. And only his words - not just love, but also the desire to protect Thorin against any upcoming evil in Erebor (or are they one and the same thing?) - manage to get it to open.

_You’re never alone, and you have nothing to fear. The tree’s branches and leaves are shielding you against all evil. And the sun is shining its light on your skin, warm and bright. Just as you like it. Just like the light I have seen in... in your soul._

Thorin’s hand moves across Bilbo’s chest until it finds his heart. Didn’t Bilbo do the same thing only minutes earlier? Only Bilbo could not speak, so he wrote instead. But the language was the same.

_Let it in, Bilbo._ _**Let the light in** _ _._

And the stone melts around the fist, and the hand opens, and now he is back in Thranduil’s garden, touching the Arkenstone affectionately. _Please shine your rays on him and infuse him with your light, and let these words penetrate him deeply. Create a shield to protect him against all evil. Let them enter, and with them, please,_ _ **let my love in**_ _._

The Arkenstone makes a sound, perhaps approving of his use of Khuzdul, and shines brighter rays, and glowing blue runes start pouring onto Thorin’s hair and back...

 _I would maybe count Khuzdul as a magical thing_ , thought Bilbo. _If Khuzdul entered my heart on our first night together, it must have made me stronger. And Thorin... Khuzdul had already been in his heart for a long time; yet when I said those words to him that the Arkenstone wrote with runes, maybe he got_ _ **my**_ **** _version of Khuzdul, filtered through_ _ **me**_ , _somehow. And... maybe that made Thorin even stronger... because... well I want to say because_ _ **I love him**_ _. Just like_ _ **he**_ _made me stronger because he loved me, when he said_ _ **Let the light in**_ _..._

_Did I just say he loved me? Hmmm... he was just trying to shield me from the ring. To get me to take it off before it could cause any more harm to me._

_And I... I was just trying to protect him with those runes before he got to the Mountain and possibly bad things started happening._

_Or maybe_ _ **love is a shield**_ _,_ he continued _. That is certainly how our love started. With me shielding him from Azog and his Orcs. And with him - I wish, I hope - with him perhaps being extra grateful for that._

...He sees Thorin being carried by the Eagle to safety, and trembles in fear as he wonders about his condition. All he wanted was a nice adventure, a story he could bring back to the Shire to tell whoever would listen, and surely he, Bilbo Baggins, flying on top of an Eagle was something beyond all expectation in its spontaneous thrill... so naturally Bilbo would want to savor this moment and record it in his memory so he could tell it to others when the time came. And yet here he is, unable to think of himself, so deeply is his mind consumed with the unconscious dwarf who right now is being shifted slightly in the Eagle’s claws in some sort of adjustment move, and Bilbo reacts, reacts as if _he_ were being carried by an Eagle and is afraid of falling... as if he were Thorin except conscious...

 _...You are changed, Thorin! The Dwarf I met in Bag End would have never gone back on his word! He would have never doubted the loyalty of his kin!_ Oh, yes, he speaks those words, but even as he hears them come out he knows there is something wrong.

He is acting as if he were Thorin. That part doesn’t feel wrong, but as he says these words, he feels them bounce off of their intended recipient and come back to him, and now they are about him. He looks at Thorin with uneasiness. _I knew I didn’t think this through, but this is really strange._ Yet all he sees is someone very hurt, who seems to have simply valued him as a true friend and is now betrayed. Of course, there is the _Do not speak... to me... of loyalty!_ but Thorin doesn’t look like he has any intention to throw Bilbo’s words back at him. Maybe he already did, though, when Bilbo wasn’t looking; for how else can he explain this “off” feeling, _it is I who have changed, in equal measure, it is I who would have never gone back on my word and yet I violated the terms of the contract I signed that was given to me in good faith in Bag End. As for loyalty... well Thorin treated me like family, he made me feel included in the Company and trusted me blindly at times... and while I wouldn’t exactly call him “kin”, the fact remains I doubted his loyalty to his loved ones, only to be proven wrong later when he charged out of the Mountain. Oh, Thorin... bitter is this cup that I have to drink as I remember it all, but take solace in that when I said these words, it’s very clear I was talking about myself too... I was talking about me, us, Thorin, us, me..._

One person? No, not one. They were two, and very different at that. And yet...

...He is dreaming that Thorin needs his help while in a meeting with Thranduil that is quickly going south; he thinks of Thorin as the embodiment of bravery and names him _zangel_ , only to see Thorin take a different form of courage moments later...

 _True courage is knowing when_ _ **to spare**_ _a life_ , Gandalf had said when he had given him the small blueish sword. In other words, pity, as far as Bilbo and Gollum were concerned, as it turned out later.

_I found something. In the goblin tunnels._

_What did you find?_ Gandalf had asked, scrutinizing him with suspicion.

_My courage._

He had faltered before the all-seeing eyes of the wizard, but had remained strangely truthful. The word _courage_ was not used to tell a lie. His brand of courage turned out to be pity for his enemy, and it _was_ something that Bilbo had found in the goblin tunnels. Now, in the halls of the Woodland Realm, saying the word _courage_ amounts to so much more: almost as if he’s acting from within Thorin or as if Thorin is him for a moment. Now Bilbo calls Thorin _courage of all courage_ in Khuzdul, meaning the courage that Thorin is made of, that enables him to confront Smaug directly and taunt him, or go face Azog alone with only an oaken branch for protection, or not even that because hey, who needs a shield on icy ground... inadvertently giving him his own brand of courage: knowing when to take pity on an enemy. _I gave him my own version of Khuzdul, again, just by saying that word,_ thought Bilbo and now he was completely intrigued. _He forgot his anger. He took pity on Thranduil and turned away_. Words. Words. Hold. Power. Naming something and giving it a different meaning... the word did not bounce off of Thorin and returned to him, but permeated Thorin with the meaning that it held for Bilbo, the sound of the word finding its echo...

...They are in Thranduil’s garden again, and as they lift their eyes and turn their gaze toward the planting spot just a few inches away, they see a stem emerging out of the ground and becoming taller and taller, and now it’s getting wider and it’s no longer a stem but a trunk, and branches start emerging, spreading like arms upwards and to the sides, and growing leaves and fruit. They take a few steps back to behold the miraculous sight, and Thorin now stands behind Bilbo, holding him and speaking in his ear, _Remember this, Bilbo_ , his words betray a sense of urgency, _You see this... The Arkenstone has given life. And it can do so again. It can give life again. Please, remember..._

_Why are you telling me this?_

_You may need this... in another world_ , and Bilbo strongly suspects that Thorin has more to say in that moment, that he is keeping to himself.

...It’s that dreamy night again, and Thorin is kissing him for the first time. Bilbo is left to put together this puzzle. How to describe how this feels to him. Thorin’s lips touch his once, twice...

 _Love me. I want you to say you love me. And I want it to be true_.

And it is. He can feel it. There is no doubt, Thorin loves him. He feels it in the way Thorin kisses him. There is so much.

He places his hand below Thorin’s ear and feels him tremble. He runs his finger down, and now Thorin is kissing him very passionately.

 _I want you_ -

But Bilbo is to exhausted to go there. Maybe in the morning, if they should be the same in the morning.

Thorin’s lips on his neck, on his ear...

 _I want it, Thorin. I want you_.

At first Thorin was kissing him slowly and carefully, perhaps sensitive to the possibility that Bilbo does not actually want this and will want to put a stop to it. It seems that Thorin was waiting for something, maybe for Bilbo to set the tone, which he is trying to just now. _**What am I to you, Thorin?**_ he asks hoping to make this night real, _**My love**_ , he hears Thorin rumble, _You’re my love_...

 _...This night forever_ , now it’s their last night in Mirkwood, they were watching the tree grow a moment ago but now they are kissing briefly before Thorin retakes his position behind Bilbo and turns him towards the tree again. Now they see the first fruit appear on one of the tree’s branches, and Bilbo turns to him for a second. _You still think the Arkenstone did it?_ and touches Thorin’s face in amazement...

 _What else could it have been?_ Thorin asks as he holds him up and starts moving them towards the tree, and Bilbo wants to answer, in fact he is doing something with his hands, wanting to point to Thorin in a not very subtle gesture, and opening his mouth to speak. But he can’t get any words out, for Thorin is kissing him again, stifling any sound or movement. Now Thorin is leaning him against the tree, pressing his hands down, immobilizing him, and now it’s pretty clear that Thorin likes to focus on just kissing at first, he wants no distractions, no touching, just to feel Bilbo’s lips on his, to taste them and only them, completely, again and again. Oh, how Bilbo wished for this, how he wished it even as he tried to hide from it! But It. is. here, and he will not wait, and Thorin lifts him up again, _I don’t want any space between us_ , he says as he wraps Bilbo’s legs around him. _I knew Thorin was passionate but nothing like this; I thought he may want to take things a little more slowly based on how rigorous those Dwarven courting procedures seemed_. Thorin’s hand touches the nape of his neck, stroking his curls while his head is buried in Bilbo’s chest, exploring the mithril gently with his lips. _Tell me_ , Thorin moans violently, _**tell me what was needed**_ _for your tree to grow_ , and now he is biting the mithril links, _**Your love**_ , Bilbo hears himself say, though it’s not clear who is speaking these words because there is only one person here...

 _He called me “my love,”_ thought Bilbo with great puzzlement at the symmetry lying before him. _“My love” meant me in that instance. And when he asked me what the tree needed for growing, I answered “your love”, meaning the love he has for me. The tree grew from my acorn, which to me personally means “my love”, the love I have for Thorin. And which also, because of the oak thing, is a symbol for Thorin himself, and therefore also means “my love”. How to begin to wrap one’s mind around this mystery... a mystery in this symmetry_ , he said to himself and smiled... literally, for the former word was an anagram of the latter, if imperfect...

_Was there a time when I moved into his heart?..._

He is back in Thranduil’s garden, the Arkenstone waiting for him to pronounce his words to Thorin. _Here’s what I want to say_ , he says to his two kind, patient witnesses. _Thorin... I feel you._ _You’re in everything I see. In the air that I breathe; in every stone, in every river and in every leaf. In this garden and in this light that is now shining on you; and in the Mountain itself that is so dear to you. And in this tree that has not yet grown, and in the stars above it. I feel you..._

 _..._ They are in Dale now, on the morning of Thorin’s waking on the third day after the battle. They are sensing each other’s presence in a new way. He is feeling what Thorin is feeling, hearing his thoughts as they are forming, from within... As he takes in this moment, he and Thorin holding each other close, it feels as if Bilbo’s body is leaving him. Thorin brings one hand up to his shoulder, and begins to stroke the links of his mithril shirt one by one, repeatedly. Bilbo’s fingers go from touching Thorin’s hair to his eye, to his temple, and his cheek, as if he still can’t believe this is real. With every touch, Thorin trembles, his eyes blink in wonder, and small tears reach Bilbo’s fingers. Yet instead of _feeling_ Thorin’s tears on his fingers, Bilbo feels tears streaming from his own eyes, and feels a touch on his own eye, his temple, his cheek, and soft fingers running through his hair. As he brings his hand to his eyes, there is nothing there, no tears, and as he looks down he sees Thorin’s hands still touching his shirt. And now he knows that he is feeling what Thorin is feeling. He breathes, and wonders if this is what it’s like for Thorin to breathe, and if he were to say something, would it be him or Thorin. _I feel you_ , he lets out...

 _That must be it. That is when I started living in him._ The feeling that he can hear what Thorin is thinking _from inside_ of him, his thoughts as they are forming from within... that was when it all started and it had persisted, manifesting here and there, fleetingly and not always in a straightforward way, but always growing...

...Back against the tree, Thorin lets Bilbo slide down and now lies on top of him, holding their hands on the ground and looking like he wants to do one hundred things at once; later they roll over and now Bilbo is on top and is running his hands on Thorin’s chest and his fingers touch his skin through the holes in his shirt and Bilbo wants to kiss his skin through the holes, but as his fingers are touching he feels a burn, _maybe this wasn’t such a good idea_ , he thinks, and much curiosity inserts itself in this game, _I wonder if I can at least peek through them.._.

He peeks through the holes, and the holes are suddenly filled with blue light that looks like a bright tunnel, and Bilbo’s eyes eagerly follow that path to a different world, in which he sees himself deep beneath the Mountain, attending what appears to be a funeral. Thorin is lying on top of cold stone, runes surrounding his tomb, which speak of the mighty son of Thrain who is now passing into legend, and grief-stricken dwarves behold him one last time...

Bilbo sees himself at Thorin’s side, dumbfounded and tearful. _You may need this... in another world_ , he hears Thorin say once more. And this time Bilbo can hear the rest of Thorin’s thoughts as they are being formed...

 _In another world, I die. And I am buried deep within the Mountain, holding the Arkenstone in my hands. And you... you will be there by my side, and there will be no comfort for you. A glimmer of understading will pass through your tear-stained eyes. Then, only then, you will know what you didn’t have time to grasp before: that you felt something for me, something that will now become all-consuming. And you will wish that I could rise from the tomb, but will be so preoccupied with your grief and newfound revelations that you won’t realize that there is a way- there is a way to bring me back, right then and there._ _ **All you’ll have to do**_ _is talk to the Arkenstone, tell it what you want, and_ _give me_ _ **your love**_.

Yet Thorin is afraid to say this out loud, so close are the boundaries between different worlds at this moment. He feels within himself that this is part of the blessed gift they are receiving in the form of the growing tree: that it brought some worlds closer, such that if you were not careful you could step from one to another. And words - _words hold power_ \- could make that happen. The image of the tree growing before their eyes and Thorin’s deep, resonant words as he holds Bilbo would have to suffice. A strong memory would perhaps penetrate through the walls between worlds at another time. When it is needed.

 _But it will be just for an hour, if what the Arkenstone said to Thranduil is correct. You will be alive again just for an hour. And then I will be alone again, Thorin..._ Bilbo addresses Thorin’s voice urgently, deeply troubled.

 _You will know then that I love you_ , Thorin comforts him. _An hour will be more than enough for me to say that to you; to make you feel my love._

_It won’t be enough, Thorin. It won’t be..._

_Then you will find a way. When you know that I love you, you will find a way to be with me again._

...The Bilbo in the funeral scene does not hear this. Only the Bilbo who is watching him through the portal created by Thorin’s shirt does. _There is a way_ , the latter Bilbo whispers into the scene. _There is a way to bring him back, right here and now. All you have to do is talk to the Arkenstone, tell it what you want, and give him your love._

The Bilbo in the funeral scene draws closer to Thorin and makes as if to touch the Arkenstone, yet stops himself. The dwarves will see and misinterpret this as a sign of disrespect, he thinks. I must be hallucinating. _What are you waiting for? Just do it, you idiot!_ the more-or-less-actual-world Bilbo shouts in disillusionment as he continues to gaze through the portal. It turns out he has said these words out loud, for Thorin lifts Bilbo’s head from his chest and studies him in surprise. _Are you sure...?_ he asks - hopefully or skeptically? - and Bilbo wonders what meaning Thorin may have gleaned from his words. _Oh. Thorin,_ he says with much relief, lifting his hands to feel them on his love’s face and lips, _I didn’t mean you. I wasn’t talking to you._ And I absolutely don’t sound like Gollum either, he finishes to himself only.

They stare at each other for one long moment. _Do you know what just happened?_ he asks his love silently, with wondering eyes. And he hears his love’s voice in his mind, speaking through Thorin’s eyes. Words... Words there is so much more to than meets the eye.

_Remember this. The Arkenstone gave life. And it can do so again. And when it does... it may not be for just an hour. All you’ll have to do is talk to the Arkenstone, tell it what you want, and give what is needed._

_What does it need, Thorin? What will it need to bring you back?_

_Your love..._

Bilbo took in a deep breath as he reached a stopping point in his stream of thoughts. _These things really happened_ , he thought. _I can see it now. I mean, not Thorin dying. That part we managed to avoid. But the rest, the rest is true. He didn’t die; instead, he found love. A love... that lives now in his heart_. _I’m no genius, but based on everything I’ve recollected here, I think it is both logical and common sense to say that... he loves me._

He was in Erebor now. And he was... not just in love with its King Under the Mountain. He was madly, drunkenly, fiercely and possessively in love. He had reached that point where any world where they were not together was no longer acceptable. Which meant that _this_ world, he thought as he looked around in the intolerably empty room, this world would need to suffer some changes. Soon. Soon... _Now_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the end of Part 1 of the Love Is A Shield series. I have now posted Chapter 1 of [An Eternity of Love](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28622022/chapters/70153131), the sequel to this work. As a sneak peek for the next part: we will see Thranduil and the Arkenstone again, and also Thorin’s cousin Dain whom I’ve been looking forward to portraying; Bilbo and Thorin’s relationship will remain the primary focus and hopefully be taken to the next level (above ground or underground, we shall see :)) If there is anything you’d like to see explored in this new part, please feel free to let me know in comments, which I always enjoy reading!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! This is my first work of fan fiction. I really loved writing it and sharing it with you! To all who subscribed, bookmarked, commented or gave kudos to this work, please know each and every one of these means a lot to me and I really appreciate your support!


End file.
